


Snow

by Emmilyne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas Story (AU after <span class="u">Half Blood Prince</span>) </p><p>It’s be a year and half since Harry Potter broke her heart and ran off to fight Voldemort.  Since then, the world has gone to hell and there has been no sign of her brother or his best friend and Ginny is sick and tired of being coddled and protected, of being locked away like the Snow Queen in the castle.  She wants to live, to be free, to fight for their world and the boy she loves.</p><p>So on one cold Christmas Eve Ginny ran into the street to feel the snow on her face and got a whole lot more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Snow Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on Checkmated 10 years ago and I’m posting it here now on request. I hope you enjoy.

It was snowing outside, just as it had on countless happy, carefree December days throughout Ginny’s childhood. The windows of her brothers’ shop were starting to frost over and dusk was descending on Diagon Alley. One couldn’t hope for a more picture perfect Christmas Eve.

 

Only there was nothing perfect about it. There was nothing carefree or happy in their lives and each holiday was more dismal than the last, highlighting the misery that had overtaken their world. Fred and George’s shop was one of only three shops that even bothered to open anymore. People had long since resorted to owls to obtain the majority of their goods. It was just safer.

 

The joke shop was already deserted and Ginny was alone in the front room. With the sun setting quickly, not even last minute Christmas shopping could entice a witch or wizard away from their families this year. Who knew how many more they had left?

 

Leaning her head on her hands and her elbows on the counter, Ginny slumped over and watched the snow fall. It was about as exciting as any activity she got to perform these days. And if it was a choice between counting Galleons and Skiving Snackboxes or counting snowflakes, she’d take the snowflakes any day. If for no other reason than because no one was _telling_ her to do it.

 

Ginny’s first memory of Diagon Alley was at Christmastime. It was all rather exciting, with carolers and decorations zooming through the air. And snow … lots and lots of snow. She remembered it being so high it was difficult to walk. Of course, she had always been so damn tiny that it could have only snowed a couple of inches and Ginny would’ve had trouble walking.

 

Regardless, it had been magical. The streets were teaming with people, smiling, calling out greetings, their arms piled high with brightly wrapped, and occasionally poorly behaved, packages. Ginny had clung her father’s hand tightly, afraid of being separated in the crowd … there was a different kind of fear that permeated the air now.

 

Ginny used to love the snow. The mere sight of it once filled her with excitement. It was hot cocoa and sledding. Snowball fights and ice castles. It was fun and family and happiness. It was warmth and life and hope.

 

Every Christmas, when her brothers came home from school, they would build an entire snow village. Then their father would animate it for them and they’d wage the Snow War. Bill would place Ginny high in a castle he and Charlie had built. She was the Snow Queen, the treasure to be fought over and protected. She had loved it. Throwing handfuls of snow out the window at Percy and the twins, she was on the top of the world.

 

Even now, Ginny was still the Snow Queen, spirited away in her frozen castle, diligently protected by the valiant heroes (or at least those who fancied themselves valiant heroes). It really wasn’t much fun anymore. The enemy warriors didn’t melt away in the sun and she was sick of throwing her shots from the safety of the tower while the people she cared about risked their lives on a daily basis.

 

Part of her wanted to rage against the tower, tear down the walls, pick up a sword, and jump into the fight. But at the same time, Ginny wished that she could be that little girl again, innocent and naïve, content to be protected. If she was going to be treated as though she was still a child at least she could retain her blissful delusions.

 

But all that was left now was the snow. All its magic had been stripped away. Now it was just what it was, cold, wet, and fleeting. But at least it was free, which was more than could be said about Ginny.

 

“Gin,” her brother called, sticking his head out from the backroom. “Might as well put the spells back up on the register. We’ll lock up early.”

 

Ginny grunted, barely sparing a glance for Fred … or George. She really didn’t have the energy to figure out who it was at the moment. What was the difference anyway?

 

“Mum will be glad to see you home early,” another voice called and that was _definitely_ George. He was the one harping on the disgusting over-protective thing. Well, all her brothers were, but George used that sickeningly sweet tone, whereas Fred, at least, had the grace to not try and hide the condescension from his tone.

 

“Fine,” Ginny called back, in that blank defeated tone she noticed was creeping into her voice more and more often as of late. She was losing her will to fight.

 

One could only struggle so long, so hard, until the lack of movement caused them give up completely. Nothing ever changed. The roles given to oneas a child were carved in stone. Ginny would always be the baby, the Snow Queen in the castle.

 

And, yes, her mum would be glad to see _her_ home. She would worry herself sick until she appeared in the hearth. Not _them_. Just Ginny. Her brothers could take care of themselves. They could run stores and chase dragons and fight for the Order. They could even disappear for a year and a half with their best friends to chase down Voldemort himself. But, then again, Ron was the Knight.

 

He may have only been a year older than Ginny, but Ron was always at the foot of the ice castle, brandishing a toy sword, fighting in the heart of battle. He sometimes forgot which snow soldiers he was supposed to be combating and, to Fred’s utter delight, vanquished his teammates, but Bill always let him play, always let him fight.

 

No, it was only Ginny who was coddled and protected. Now, at seventeen, she was still that princess in the tower. Her rages and tears, her manipulations and clever arguments never won her family over. _Seventeen_ and she wasn’t allowed to go to school or move out on her own or get a job that wasn’t given to her by her brothers. Hell, she wasn’t even allowed to walk down the street by herself. She might as well still be the little girl clinging to her father’s hand. It was a wonder she could even breathe.

 

Why were they doing this to her? Why did her family, and the rest of the Order for that matter, think Ginny needed to be the most protected witch in England? Did she seem so fragile to them? She was no one special. No particular target. Harry had left her long ago.

 

Straightening up, Ginny clenched her jaw at the thought. Harry. He was no better than her brothers. Worse, really. Her brothers placed her in the castle. Harry abandoned her there. Shrugging out of her Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes robes, she threw them carelessly on the wall hook before taking one last look out the window.

 

At least when she was little she got to feel the snow on her face. Not now. No, Ginny had to use the Floo in the backroom with all its special passwords and protective spells. No going outside for her. Even the Snow Queen got to go outside.

 

Moving to the register, Ginny lifted her wand to chant the charms she had said a million mind-numbing times before. What was it about her? Why were people intent on making her miserable for her “own good”? Maybe it was her fault, for letting them, for not fighting them hard enough. She screamed that she was an adult, but what did she _do_ about it? If she wanted to fight in the Snow War so badly, why didn’t she leave the damn castle?

 

Finishing the charms, she closed her eyes and pressed the heels of her hands tightly against them. Ginny had always told herself that if the Snow Wars hadn’t stopped when Bill and Charlie became more interested in girls than snowball fights, she would have found a way to not only join the fight, but win the war. But maybe she wouldn’t have.

 

Maybe she would have just whined and complained, all from the safety of the tower.

Looking down, she saw a quill and parchment left on the countertop and, once again, Ginny’s eyes were drawn to the window. Her heart began to race. Out there … out there was freedom, if only for a moment. What harm could a few minutes do?

 

There weren’t any Death Eaters out there. There wasn’t _anybody_ out there. Ginny could take care of herself if something happened, couldn’t she? Or was everything she had been telling her family mere bravado? Was she scared? Was she as pathetic as they seemed to think she was?

 

No one was letting her out of that castle. If she wanted out, Ginny was going to have to climb out. And at some point, she needed to take that first step or she was never going anywhere.

 

A wealth of reckless exhilaration warmed Ginny’s insides and she smiled for the first time it what seemed like days. Quickly, she scratched out a note, “ _See you back at the Burrow.”_ Then, before her brothers emerged from reviewing their owl orders, she snatched up her wand and threw her cloak around her shoulders, dashing outside.

 

Immediately, Ginny was met with a burst of cold air. It was heavenly, freezing her cheeks and chilling her lungs. _Absolutely_ heavenly. For a moment, she just stood there, breathing it in, feeling brave and strangely powerful.

 

Then she realized that she was still standing in the front window where the twins could plainly see her and that the fight they’d give her if she was discovered would be more humiliating than empowering … and there was a big empty street waiting. Ginny started out walking at a brisk pace, but soon she was running, skidding on the icy street and laughing breathlessly.

 

Once, when she was five years old, she’d escaped the ice castle and gone running down the path. Ginny was pummeled by overactive snow soldiers. Her mother had gone completely spare, punishing each and every one of her brothers, irregardless of whose fault it might have been. But all Ginny remembered was laughing and running and being happier than she’d ever been.

 

When she finally ran out of breath and her lungs stung, Ginny came to a sliding halt in front of what was once the Quidditch supply shop. Gasping and laughing, she bent over, a cloud of white breath before her. It was lovely. She shook the snow from her hair, then tilted her head back, blinking as the flakes fell on her lashes.

 

Ginny smiled and closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of the snow melting on her face. Stretching her hands out wide she caught the flakes in her open palms. Had she just been thinking that snow was merely cold and wet? It was so much more than that. It was free and unrestrained and _brave_ , dancing in the wind, uncaring of the future. Ginny needed to learn to be more like snow. Spinning in a circle, she had the feeling—

 

A phantom arm shot out, clamping around her waist and yanking Ginny back, slamming her into a hard male body. Her eyes snapped open, but too late. Before she could scream, a hand slapped over her mouth. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t reach her wand. They were Disapparating. Ginny was squeezed against her abductor and Diagon Alley blurred into nothing.

 

In that moment, Ginny was absolutely certain that she was going to die before she ever had a chance to really live. In one brief act of recklessness she had thrown away any chance of a future better than the life she lived. Her family had been right and Harry … oh God, Harry. She was so sorry. He’d tried to keep her safe and she’d thrown it all away. She’d never see him again. Oh God. Oh please God, _no_.

 

As suddenly as they had left, Ginny found herself in a cabin, a small room, illuminated by a single fire. Its windows were piled high with snow as a blizzard raged outside.

 

Bloody hell, she was in the middle of nowhere. No one would find her here. Her head still pinned by the firm hand over her mouth, her eyes darted around the room, looking for Death Eaters … Voldemort, himself even, but the room was empty.

 

What did they want with her? Why didn’t they just kill her in the street? Was Ginny just another victim or would they try and use her to lure Harry out of … _wherever_ he was? Try to use her against him? After all this time, would Harry even care enough to make her an effective weapon? If _he_ was still alive, that was.

 

The arms around her dropped so rapidly that Ginny stumbled. Catching herself, she spun, scrambling backing from her invisible attacker as she gasped for breath and desperately tried to think of a plan.

 

What if everyone was right and she couldn’t take care of herself? What was she thinking? Of course, they were right. She’d gone and got herself abducted, hadn’t she? Ginny grabbed for her wand, but, of course, it was gone. Think! There had to be some wandless—

 

There was a whoosh in the air in front of her and a multicolored blur as her captor whipped off his Invisibility Cloak. A gesture that seemed almost angry …

 

The breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding left her in an instant, leaving Ginny dizzy. Oh God. _Harry_. It wasn’t some Death Eater carrying her away as a Christmas present for their Lord. It was Harry. Alive and healthy, fire blazing in his amazing green eyes.

 

Oh God, he was alive and here with her and it had been so long. Ginny had been so afraid she’d never see him again and now… now … he had bloody goddamn _kidnapped_ her! The stupid wanker. What sort of bollocks was he trying to pull?

 

The fear and self-doubt that had been so overpowering moments ago disappeared in an instant, replaced with fury that warred with relief and … and the _overwhelming_ urge to throw herself into Harry’s arms and weep, to cry like a baby and then kiss him until neither of them could see straight.

 

The conflicting emotions really were a tad disconcerting and Ginny was left frozen, staring at Harry in shock. Should she respond with the relief or the rage?

 

Harry balled his Invisibility Cloak up in his fists and hurled it across the room furiously, knocking over some unknown object and causing a clatter that made her flinch. Turning the full force of his green glare on her, he railed, “Goddamn it, Ginny. What the _fuck_ did you think you were doing? I left you behind to protect you, not so you would go skipping down the street like Death Eater bait.”

 

Rage, it was then. Ginny could feel her face turn hot as her hands balled into tight fists. “I was perfectly fine until some stupid mad git with an Invisibility Cloak decided to kidnap me!”

 

What was this supposed to be, anyway? Some sort of lesson for the errant, willful little girl? Who did Harry think he was? He wasn’t her keeper. He wasn’t her brother. He wasn’t even her boyfriend. He had no _right_ to teach her anything.

 

Harry’s eyes flashed. “You’re lucky it was me, Ginny, and not a Death Eater.”

 

“Lucky! I’m lucky that I was _just_ kidnapped by my barking mad _ex_ -boyfriend?” Ginny hollered, holding her head high and crossing her arms. The gesture was ruined as her arms got caught her blasted cloak. She threw it to the floor in an angry gesture of her own. It was too damn hot in there anyway.

 

Harry stalked over to her, looking wild and just a tad like an escapee from St. Mungos’s Mental Ward. Ginny had to fight to keep from shrinking under his imposing stare. He was taller. No, maybe just _thicker_. Shite, he was standing so close. He didn’t stop invading her space until she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

 

She _wasn’t_ going to flinch, Goddamn it. She wasn’t going to step back. And Ginny sure as hell wasn’t going to let him think that her heart rate had doubled for any reason other than pure rage. Or that his closeness had brought back the impulse to throw herself at him.

 

“ _Ginny_ ,” Harry bit out through clenched teeth, “do you understand how easily Voldemort could have taken you? You could be _dead_ right now.”

 

He was shaking with fury and Ginny was fighting herself to keep from grabbing his face and snogging the hell out of him. What was _wrong_ with her? Oh, but he looked so … _alive_. She dug her nails into her palms to remind herself not to reach for him. He had left her, abandoned her, and then kidnapped her. Ginny would do well to remember that.

 

“We could all be dead at any moment. We’re at war, Harry. Well, we are … you, on the other hand, have been nowhere to be found.” Ginny met his gaze evenly, rather proud of her argument, all things considering.

 

But Harry, of course, ignored her accusation of abandonment, harping, instead, on the same old argument. “You don’t get it!” he bellowed. “I _could_ have been a Death Eater!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. This was getting old. What did he want from her? “You’re getting repetitive, Har …”

 

Oh God, what if it wasn’t Harry? She stepped back, looking him over more carefully. How could she have been so stupid? “How do I know you’re _not_ a Death Eater?” Ginny accused, backing up until she hit the wall, putting as much space as she could between them. “How do I know you’re Harry? I haven’t seen you— _him_ in years.”

 

It really didn’t make sense for him to show up like this. Shit, Ginny had been so blinded by her desire to see him again, she’d accepted it was him without thought. Harry—the man closed his eyes and tipped his face to the ceiling, taking a deep breath and running his hands over his face. What was he going to do to her?

 

“It’s been _one_ year and five months, Ginny.”

 

Tears prickled her eyes. Please, _please_ let this be Harry. “Anyone could know that,” Ginny challenged, somehow managing to keep her voice cold and even.

 

Grunting with frustration, the man took a step toward her. “Gin—”

 

“No!” With a flash of fear, Ginny held her hands up to ward him off. As if that would really help if this _was_ an impostor. What the hell was she supposed to do now? “Give me back my wand!” she demanded.

 

“ _Ginny_!” he yelled with Harry’s voice and Harry’s characteristic temper. Though, she’d never had it directed towards her before.

 

“If you were really Harry, you’d give me back my wand.” Ginny’s voice was beginning to take on a hysterical quality. If she could just get her hands on her wand then … oh God, then what?

 

He crossed his arms, looking at her incredulously. “So you can hex me? Or splinch yourself trying to Apparate across the continent … from an unknown location … while you’re upset. I don’t think so.”

 

Every mannerism, every … the more he seemed like her Harry the more desperate Ginny became. “Prove it. Prove you’re Harry!” she bellowed.

 

“I’m not playing this fucking game with you, Ginny,” he yelled back, just as loud. “There is nothing I could say that would prove I’m who I say I am. Nothing. You want me to tell you my greatest ambition or how I like my jam? Do you want me to tell you about our first kiss … or our last? Do you think they don’t know that rubbish? This is why you’re _supposed_ to be careful. You—”

 

“Prove it!” Tears leaked into her voice. “ _Prove_ it!”

 

The man (Ginny had to keep reminding herself not to think of him as Harry) looked down, his fists clenched. When he looked up again there was something terrifying in his eyes. Holy shit. That wasn’t Harry. He advanced and Ginny couldn’t help the squeal of fright that escaped her. He was going to kill her. He was—

 

He kissed her. He pushed her back against the wall, pinning her there with his body flat against hers and his hands on either side of her head as he crushed his lips to hers. The aggression and the speed of it stole her breath and … it _wasn’t_ in fear.

 

But the violence of the gesture only lasted a moment. Then Harry’s lips softened and he froze like that, just his lips against hers. It was strange, like a moment out of time.

 

Ginny’s eyelids fluttered closed and she let herself just feel, no second guessing, no self-recriminations, just sensations. She took a deep breath through her nose and heard him do the same. Her senses had never been quite this sensitive.

 

Every sound was magnified, every … he smelled like Harry. Could Polyjuice reproduce a smell? How had Ginny missed it before, when he grabbed her on the street? Why hadn’t she realized it was Harry’s smell? Had it been _that_ long?

 

His lips were chapped. Harry’s lips were always smooth and soft when they kissed, but they’d dated in the springtime. Ginny had never had the chance kiss him in the winter. She’d been cheated … but she was kissing him _now_ and it was winter and he was alive and under the chapped skin the pressure of his lips was unmistakably Harry.

 

Tears burned her eyes and Ginny whimpered against him, her hands fluttering and landing on his chest, where instead of pushing Harry away they curled into his shirt, clutching it, and holding him there.

 

He must have taken that as signal or permission or something, because he breathed in sharply and his lips began to move. Ever noble, her Harry. He could kidnap her off the street, but sought permission to deepen a kiss.

 

As he began to kiss her, _really_ kiss her, Ginny knew … no one could Polyjuice _this_. The way his lips moved, gentle and forceful at the same time, it was all Harry. He always kissed her as if it was the last time, desperate and needy and savoring. He always ran his tongue along her bottom lip before slipping inside. He always waited until she parted her lips just a tiny bit more, no matter how excited he was.

 

They were only together for a short time, but they’d taken full advantage of every stolen moment. Maybe they both realized that they wouldn’t have long. But, then again, she could have only kissed him once and it would have been burned into Ginny’s soul. This was _Harry_.

 

But more than that, Polyjuice couldn’t imitate the way Harry made her insides melt and her heart flutter. There was something in his touch that affected her like a drug. Ginny had kissed a respectable number of blokes, but no one else ever made her feel … _this_.

 

Harry was panting when he finally pulled away, leaving Ginny to fight for breath and wonder just what all of this meant. Was he as affected by the kiss as she was? Did he kidnap her because he missed her? Like she missed him? Did he feel the same desperate loneliness?

 

“Convinced now?” Harry demanded between gasps, his eyes fixed on the wall behind her head.

 

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. Well, what had she expected? A declaration of love. This is what Ginny got for melting too easily, caring too much. Well, the smug bastard would never know just how easily she had been convinced.

 

“I don’t see what that’s supposed to prove,” Ginny threw back with equal arrogance.

 

“I’ve kissed loads of blokes. Is your kiss supposed to be so different?”

 

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers, his face distorting in a wince, then clouding over with pain. Ginny felt an instinctive flash of regret at her lie, but she steeled herself against it. She was too vulnerable when it came to him. She’d already bent too much, acted too weak. It was time for her to start acting like that strong witch she always fancied herself to be.

 

Ginny wasn’t going to let Harry get away with this bollocks anymore. She wasn’t going to let him coddle and protect her, make her decisions for her. How dare he show up like this, after over a year of no word, and expect her to fall into his arms? He didn’t even _just_ show up. Harry _kidnapped_ her off the street, only to rail at her as if she was a child. That was the problem. He always treated her like a child, a simple, innocent chit.

 

Well, she was going to break that damn illusion if it was the last thing she did. Tilting her chin up and meeting his eyes unwaveringly, Ginny prepared herself for the row to end all rows. She was going to make him pay for this. Harry would never know what hit him.

 

But then Harry growled, a feral look on his face and Ginny had to reconsider her analysis of the situation. Then she couldn’t consider anything at all, because his hand curled over the back of her head and he yanked her forward, slamming his lips onto hers brutally.

That was the end of her higher brain functions _and_ of her underestimating Harry. He wasn’t the cautious awkward boy who’d left her.

 

He was finished asking for permission and for the first time Harry’s tongue plunged into her mouth without asking. And it was easily the most exciting moment of Ginny’s young life. His mouth sealed to hers and his tongue plundered, running along the back of her teeth and mouth possessively.

 

All she could do was sag against the wall as her eyes rolled back into her head and the pleasure overwhelmed her. This was what she’d been missing when she kissed Harry before. He’d always held back. Now, Ginny could feel the passion coming off him in waves, burning her skin.

 

And still the kiss didn’t ease up. Ginny considered whether she was allowing Harry to win by letting him claim her in this manner. But how could he be winning when this was exactly what she wanted?

 

Still, a part of her thought she should push him away … push him away and punch him in his manly chin for taking liberties that weren’t his to take. But why would she do that? He might never take these liberties again and that was the last thing she wanted. Ginny had been waiting her whole life for this.

 

Well, while she wasn’t going to fight it, she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there passively and let him do everything. Ginny took a great gasping breath through her nose and weaved her hands into his hair, pulling him still closer as she gave herself over to participating vigorously in the kiss, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke.

 

Harry gasped into her mouth in surprise, easing the pressure a bit, shying back and … completely hacking Ginny off. She bit his lip in punishment and he snarled in response, immediately taking control back of the kiss and pulling her face so close that their teeth clanked. Much better.

 

Her jaw ached and her lips stung, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that this kiss was clearly a punishment, for her words, her dismissal of him. But if this was her punishment, Ginny didn’t see one good reason why she should ever stop sinning.

 

Ginny had _never_ experienced anything quite this intense before. His glasses dug into the bridge of her nose and it was so … _Harry_ that she almost cried. It wasn’t fair that he could still affect her like this. In mere minutes he had her knickers soaked through and she was more aroused than she could ever remember being. Not even that last night they were together was it like this.

 

Why? Why was it _always_ Harry? Why couldn’t it be someone else who made her body hum and her blood boil? Someone who Ginny could actually _be_ with? Who was as affected by her as she was by him?

 

But Harry was affected. His body crushed hers into the wall, but it still wasn’t close enough for him. One of his hands wedged behind the curve of her back and pulled her even farther into him, causing the erection digging into her belly to be brought into unmistakable definition. It was quite impressive, really. And clear. Clear that Ginny was having a definite affect on him as well.

 

Feeling a sudden surge of power and confidence, she pressed against him, grinding her hips against his cock and feeling the answering groan vibrate in Harry’s throat. It was absolutely wicked what Ginny was doing, what she was even thinking. Wicked and decadent and dirty and wonderfully liberating.

 

Just when Ginny was starting to think that the desperate way Harry clung to her meant he felt some small piece of what he made her feel, the stupid git yanked his lips away, tearing them off to the side, and leaving her feeling ripped open. She whimpered and hated herself for it. She may have wanted his lips back on hers with a desire that verged on pain, but no evidence of that would voluntarily pass her lips.

 

Harry gasped, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, just above his glasses, as he fought to catch his breath. The muscles in his neck stood out in definition, his skin flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat. Oh, he was affected all right. It was beautiful, really, and the urge to taste the salty skin in front of her was disorienting in its intensity.

 

His hand left the small of her back and though he didn’t step back, Ginny had more room to breathe, to try not to be mesmerized by the way his throat worked as he swallowed. She kept her face as neutral as possible, hoping he couldn’t see the need in her eyes when he finally looked at her again.

 

Whatever he saw, it seemed to infuriate him. “This how you kiss Death Eaters, Gin?” Harry asked cruelly, slapping his hands back flat against the wall next to her head and pushing his body against hers once more, undoubtedly trying to make her feel trapped.

 

The urge to hit him was back, but Ginny suppressed it. That would only prove he had affected _her_. This was about her affecting _him_. His words hurt, but that was unavoidable. It was all part of the game she had chosen to play. And more importantly, they proved Harry was hurt. Hurt and jealous. Exactly how she wanted him.

 

Smiling coyly, Ginny allowed her body to relax into his. “A kiss is a kiss, Harry. What’s the difference who it comes from?”

 

Harry bared his teeth to her, leaning still closer, so their noses were almost touching, his eyes boring into hers. “Liar,” he hissed, before flinging himself away.

 

Ginny immediately missed the warmth of his body against hers, but his accusation was easy to brush aside. The way Harry was pacing and pulling at his hair showed that whether he believed her or not, she got under his skin and that was enough.

 

“If you say so,” she said casually as she sat on the edge of the bed. Ginny leaned back on her hands and watched him, trying to make the action look casual and sultry when really she was just trying to keep her legs from collapsing beneath her.

 

But Harry refused to look at her as he paced the small room from one end to the other. Ginny waited for him to speak, but he seemed intent on perfecting his impression of an addled madman. She found herself looking around the room, taking in the sparse furnishings and rustic walls. Her eyes fell to a door … another room perhaps.

 

“Where’s Ron?” The words slipped from Ginny’s mouth before she had time to think about them. Her heart started to pound and she sat up straight, her eyes piercing. “ _Harry_ , where is my brother?”

 

Her pretense of not believing who he was fell away. It didn’t matter now. If Harry was here then Ron was …? Did something happen? Something that caused the haunted look Harry now had in his eyes?

 

Harry hesitated. Oh God. Please. Ron couldn’t be dead. _No_. Harry looked away and took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Each gesture made Ginny’s heart sink as she felt her body grow progressively numb. Finally, he began, “Ron and Hermione …”

 

Not dead. Ginny shook her head in denial. Don’t say dead. _Please_.

 

“Ron and Hermione … they just wanted some time alone together.”

 

Relief made Ginny feel rather dizzy, but she found the strength to scowl at the stupid git.

She couldn’t believe Harry scared her half to death just because Ron and Hermione wanted some alone time. She felt the strong urge to start flinging things at him for his shear thoughtlessness.

 

“You couldn’t just _say_ that?” she snapped. Harry shrugged and threw her a guilty look before continuing to pace. The isolation out here must really be getting to him. Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed. “Sounds as though they’re pretty serious then.”

 

For some reason that finally stopped Harry’s incessant movement. His eyes flickered over Ginny briefly before he gave a small laugh, resting his hands low on his hips and looking at the ceiling rafters. “Yeah, you could say that.”

 

Strange how the way he said it put a bitter taste is Ginny’s mouth. “Amazing, really,” she drawled, her voice dripping with ire as an old simmering anger finally found its outlet.

 

“Hermione must count herself awfully lucky to have a bloke love her despite the danger. To, you know, _be_ with her.”

 

Harry’s only response was to clench his jaw and fix her with a dark look through narrowed eyes. As if _that_ were going to frighten her. Ginny smiled bitterly, continuing, “Someone who respects her enough to let her make her own decisions.”

 

“Ron’s not the Chosen One,” Harry growled.

 

“Oh, right. I forgot,” Ginny mocked, crossing her legs and swinging her foot casually.

 

“Yes, Ron’s not the Great Exalted Self-Sacrificing One. So, oh noble Chosen One, is kidnapping part of your mission, now?”

 

That fire flared in his eyes again. Damn, but Harry was attractive when he was angry. Especially when his gaze bore into her as though he wanted to devour her. Ginny wished he’d get on with that all ready. The snogging was much more fun than this and worked much better to achieve her goal … which was what exactly? She wanted him to see her as a woman. A strong, capable woman … but then what?

 

His gaze licked over her, leaving Ginny feeling as though he were stroking her bare flesh. Instinctively, she pushed out her chest and leaned back on her arms. Harry’s breath quickened and for a moment she actually felt … _sexy_. How far did she want to take this? As far as it would go.

 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest defensively, fixing his eyes on the floor. “I didn’t come to kidnap you,” he muttered. “I was just trying to see if you— _your family_ was all right.”

 

Heat coiled in Ginny’s belly. There was at least _some_ part of Harry that had been thinking about her, missing her. She smiled up at him and for the first time in her life she actually felt seductive. “So, kidnapping me was … what? A _whim_?”

 

He glared at her, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, his fury palpable. “I didn’t expect to find you gallivanting down the street, _asking_ to be taken.” With each word his voice got louder and he took another menacing step closer to Ginny.

 

She didn’t flinch. “So … you decided to do me a favor and _take_ me.” Ginny deliberately lingered over the word “take,” relishing the way Harry flinched at the double entendre.

 

Ginny smiled wickedly and he stepped even closer, so he was directly above her on the bed, looking down, trying to intimidate her. It only made her skin tingle.

 

“What were you doing, by _yourself_ , in the middle of Diagon Alley?” Harry hissed, scowling. Did he really think he was going to frighten her? He exuded power and strength, but any fear was gone the moment she knew who it was. Harry wouldn’t hurt her, not on purpose, not physically. All she felt was arousal at his display of dominance.

 

“I was going to see my lover.” The lie just spilled out of Ginny’s mouth. It was the type of sarcastic comeback she’d use on Fred or George. Of course, they knew it wasn’t true, whereas Harry looked as if she’d slapped him.

 

Well, it wasn’t as if Ginny could tell him the truth. That she was sick of waiting, waiting for something horrible to happen, waiting for the war to end, waiting for Harry to come back … back to _her_. The truth was, her reckless jaunt down the Alley, it was all _his_ bloody fault. The git.

 

“Your boyfriend?” Harry asked in a small voice, jealousy and shock clear on his face. Amazing how he turned lover into boyfriend, as though the former was too incongruous with his image of virginal little Ginny Weasley for him to comprehend.

 

She smiled slowly. “My _lover_.” Ginny drew the word out slowly and Harry swayed toward her, radiating fury and … _heat_. Maybe this new Ginny would be one he wasn’t afraid to touch, to _be_ with, one he could kiss without restraint, even if it was based on a lie.

 

How far would Ginny have to push before he lost the last of his control? What would Harry do to her if he did? What secret fantasies lurked inside him? The thought made her unduly warm and gave her the impetus to add, “One of many such lovers.”

 

Harry winced, disgust distorting his face. His body was coiled so tightly that Ginny could see each of his muscles through his shirt. He took a great hissing breath and shook his head. “You’re lying,” he said softly, as if he were trying to make himself believe.

 

“Am I?” Ginny licked her lips slowly, watching his eyes follow her tongue’s progress. “Was I supposed to sit and wait for you to get home?” The humiliating thing was, for all intents and purposes, that was exactly what she had done.

 

“No … I …” Harry sputtered. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

 

Of course, he wouldn’t. That wouldn’t be very noble of him. And it might actually be something Ginny would have chosen. If someone had bothered to ask. “But you wanted me to. To wait for you,” she taunted, pushing aside her insecurities and praying he wouldn’t deny her.

 

Harry was breathing heavily, his voice trembling as he answered, wide-eyed, “I wanted you to … I wanted you to _live_. To be happy.”

 

Well, those were two very different things, weren’t they? And Ginny’s definition of living seemed to be quite different from Harry’s. By her definition he had failed miserably on both his accounts.

 

“Well, that’s what I’ve been doing, Harry dear. _Living_ … with every bloke I could find.”

Harry shook with barely controlled rage. Ginny only needed to give him one final push. But the lies were getting deep now. What if she pushed too far … No, she was _not_ backing down now. The Snow Queen was leaving that damn castle and she wasn’t going back. And if Ginny’s virginity was the sacrifice, well … wouldn’t that be wonderful?

 

“What’s wrong, Harry? Jealous? Can’t stand that there are blokes out there who have the courage to take what they want when you don’t?”

 

That did it. Nothing like insulting their courage to push a Gryffindor over the edge. Harry grabbed her arms and hauled her up until she was on her toes against him. A split second later his lips slammed back onto hers.

 

And for the first time in a year and a half, Ginny really _did_ feel alive.

 

 

 

* * * * *


	2. Fire

Harry hadn’t intended on … _abducting_ Ginny.  Actually, he hadn’t _intended_ on seeing her at all.  His plans in regard to her were quite clear and had been for over a year.  He wasn’t going anywhere near any of his old friends, least of all Ginny, until his job was finished and Voldemort was dead. 

 

Enough people had been killed because of him and any contact would only put the people Harry cared about in danger and that included Ron and Hermione.  The fewer people who knew about where the three of them were and what they were doing, the safer everyone was.

 

Still, the desire to see Ginny wasn’t new.  Harry pretended it had lessened over his time away, but truthfully it had only become easier to ignore.  But that day, Christmas Eve, it was particularly intense. 

 

Harry couldn’t even blame the solitude for his … _preoccupation_.  It began before Ron and Hermione had gone off for their own celebration.  It began the moment he opened his eyes.  He had woken up, looked out the window, saw the snow, and thought … _Ginny_.  And no matter what he tried to distract himself with, she wouldn’t budge from his thoughts. 

 

By the time Ron and Hermione left, the need to see her was almost painful.  It began like the snow had, soft and mild, but the winds picked up and it began to fall faster and faster.  Soon the calm Christmas snow became a blizzard.  The scene from the window was a sheet of white and Harry couldn’t see anything else.

 

Still, he sat.  His knees drawn to his chest, he clutched them tightly.  For hours Harry fought himself.  The storm raged outside, while the air inside their small cabin sanctuary was unnaturally still.  And he sat, staring into the fire until he thought he might go blind. 

 

Looking into the fire was never a good idea if he didn’t want to think about Ginny.  From the color of her hair to the essence of her spirit, the reminder was … it just wasn’t a good idea.  Harry knew this from experience, so he had to wonder if, deep down, he _wanted_ to think about her.  Maybe he actually wanted the urge to see her to get so intense, so completely overpowering … maybe he _wanted_ to lose control. 

 

It was Christmas Eve.  The one holiday when everyone was supposed to be with the people they loved.  And all he had was the snow and the fire and the solitude and …  Harry _had_ to see her.  He had to.

 

It would just be a look, Harry told himself.  He would pop in, concealed by his Invisibility Cloak, make sure Ginny was healthy and whole and then he would leave.  No harm done.  He’d _leave_.  He would.  Then he saw Ginny running down the street, beautiful and innocent, like a child playing in the snow and …

 

Ginny was just as Harry remembered her, carefree and full of life.  The longing he felt while watching at her was unbearable.  She looked so … so … _vulnerable_.  That was when the terror took hold.  It was quickly followed by rage. 

 

Harry’d let her go so that she would be safe.  His time with Ginny had been the happiest, most peaceful weeks of his life.  Everyday he thought about her.  Everyday he wanted her … just to talk, to sit with.  And there she was, spinning in an empty street, her eyes _closed_ , turning to rubbish everything he’d fought for, everything he’d sacrificed.

 

So, Harry took her.  It was his night for reckless impulses, it seemed.  He didn’t allow himself a moment to think about what he was doing.  He wanted her, so he took her, like a barbarian.  He had to wonder what sort of wizard the war had made him.

 

He told himself he was teaching Ginny a valuable lesson, that she was lucky _he_ was the one taking her.  Didn’t she have any idea how much danger she was putting herself in?  Harry reasoned that this really _was_ for her own good.  Perhaps now she’d stop being so careless with her own safety.

 

But maybe he was giving himself too much credit.  Watching Ginny, spinning in the snow, she represented everything Harry craved, everything that was missing from his life. Maybe _that_ was the real reason he took her.  His memory really didn’t do her justice and he was just too raw and too needy to resist her pull.

 

In the end, Harry didn’t know who he was angrier at, her or himself.  But once he got her back to the cabin, Ginny made it easy on him.  Every word that came out of her mouth gave him another reason to focus all of his pent up rage on her.  And then … _then_ she gave him the perfect excuse to do what he’d _really_ wanted to do when he saw her dancing in the street, kiss her.

 

It was a rather poor excuse, really.  Not to mention quite arrogant of him to think that Ginny would recognize him from his kiss.  But Harry would recognize hers anywhere.  They’d only been together for a few weeks, but they’d taken every opportunity to sneak away and indulge themselves.  And every single moment of it was burned into his memory.

 

Harry wasn’t so foolish as to think Ginny felt the same way.  She’d had other boyfriends.  Boyfriends she’d dated far longer than she’d dated him.  Why would she have the same feelings he had for her?  He was barking to even feel this way. 

 

She’d probably moved on with her life.  And wasn’t that the whole point?  To give her the opportunity to lead a normal life.  But when Ginny threw that desire back in his face Harry realized that he had been lying to himself all along. 

 

The rage and jealousy caught him off-guard, driving all rational thought from his head.  Ginny was everything to him.  _Everything_!  How dare someone else touch her?  All Harry had thought about for months … _years,_ almost _,_ was coming back to her.  No one else could possibly give up as much as he had or work as hard as he did to protect her. 

 

Ginny had no idea what sort of fire she was playing with when she taunted him, not with a boyfriend, _that_ he could understand, but with a _lover_.  No lover _s_.  Pleural.  It made Harry sick.  It couldn’t be true.  She _had_ to be lying … exaggerating, at the very least. 

 

But the more she talked, the more Harry realized that his naïve fantasies were just that … fantasies.  Even if she was exaggerating, _someone_ had touched her.  Someone had _taken_ her.  His Ginny.  _His_.

 

But she wasn’t the same Ginny he’d known.  She’d changed.  Her every word and action confirmed it.  The war, the goddamn _fucking_ war had corrupted her and he hadn’t been there to stop it, to protect her.  But Ginny had let it and something  _good_ had been destroyed inside of her.  It had been stolen from her, from him.  And the anger this caused was unlike anything Harry had felt before.

 

He lost all control.  He attacked her.  Maybe Harry could have stopped at just snogging, maybe he _could_ have done the right thing, if Ginny hadn’t been kissing him back as if magic itself depended on it.  Other men may have had her, but she still wanted _him_. 

 

Ginny sealed their fate when she taunted him that he didn’t have the courage to take her as well.  Harry lacked a lot of things (self-control and judgment were currently at the top of the list) but courage was something he had in droves and _taking_ her was not exactly a sacrifice.

 

So he kissed her …  and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her.  It felt amazingly natural given how long it had been since Harry’d had a good snog, or any snog at all.  Just like riding a broomstick, eh?  But this was a kiss completely unlike anything that happened in Gryffindor common room so long ago.

 

This was a full body snog with groping hands and dueling tongues and clanking teeth.  Harry poured all of his hurt and frustration and anger into this kiss.  And he had a lot of that.  But even more intense was the loneliness and desperation.  It left his control in ashes and his kisses rough.  Not that Ginny seemed to mind.

 

Harry had never kissed her like this.  He’d never kissed _anyone_ like this.  Unrestrained.  Almost violent.  He’d always held back.  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Ginny … or scare her.  There were _terrifying_ things inside of him.

 

But what did it matter now?  Ginny was far from the innocent girl Harry had left behind and judging from the skill and enthusiasm with which she met his tongue thrust for thrust, she was far from intimidated. 

 

He could feel her fingernails digging into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt.  No, Ginny was neither innocent nor unwilling.  And just once Harry was going to _take_ what he wanted … _needed_.  And at that moment, he needed her more than he needed food or water or _air_.

 

Harry had one hand tangled a bit too tightly in the mass of fire on her head.  He was surprised it didn’t burn.  Its color was too bright for the dullness of his life.  His other hand ventured uninvited and courageous under her jumper at the small of her back.  He’d always sought permission before, but tonight he wasn’t worried about offending her.  Her skin was soft and warm against his hand and felt more alive than anything he’d felt in ages.

 

Ginny moaned with what could only be interpreted as appreciation as she wrapped a calf around his thigh, pulling him even closer.  It made Harry wonder why he was moving so damn slowly.  She’d practically offered herself to him on a platter. Why wasn’t he inside her yet?  Hell, she’d _dared_ him to take her.

 

And he had every intention of doing so.  He needed to stop thinking and _move_. Harry braced a knee on the edge of the bed and pushed her down upon it.  No finesse, no gentleness, just forced Ginny onto her back. 

 

He had to wonder with all her experience what Ginny would think of his lack.  But then her body was trapped under his, pressing against him, full-length, in the bed where he spent more than a year dreaming about this moment.  And it really didn’t matter that Harry was inexperienced.  He didn’t intend to be for much longer.

 

In some ways, it was the countless hours he spent in this bed thinking about her that kept Harry going.  Fantasy was a powerful thing.  But this was real and it was nothing like he imagined.  In his mind, it was always gentle and sweet, kind and tender.  They would have been shy and awkward, the experience full of tension-breaking laughter.

 

But Harry wasn’t taking Ginny’s virginity.  She wasn’t awkward or shy and he wasn’t tender or sweet.  She was grinding against him and sucking on his tongue and the fire inside him threatened to consume them both.  And no one felt like laughing.

 

Harry shoved her jumper up.  He wanted to tare it off of her, but the thick wool wouldn’t cooperate with his mood.  Ginny gasped into his mouth as it was rapidly moved past her breasts, yanking at her arms and forcing her to ease her hold on him.  At least he could still shock her.

 

Tearing his mouth away just long enough to thrust the offending jumper over her head, Harry remembered his glasses and tossed them in the direction of the bedside table.  He didn’t bother to look to see if he had hit his mark before attacking her mouth again.  Ginny’s jumper got tangled around her wrists and he decided he rather liked it that way.  It evened out the playing field a bit.  He was tired of being at _her_ mercy.

 

Leaving her trapped, Harry was quite astonished when Ginny didn’t struggle or fight him, just tugged at the bonds lightly before relaxing her arms and arching into him.  Shit, she was sexy. 

 

He ran his hands over the soft skin of Ginny’s beautiful bare arms, imagining the freckles that lined them.  He didn’t want to stop her kissing long enough to look for himself.  Instead, Harry ran his hands down her neck and shoulders, along the sides of her breasts.  Brilliant.  It had been far too long, his memories far too few. 

 

Harry had to pull back so he could slip his hands between their bodies and get to the places he _really_ wanted to touch.  Ginny groaned in protest as his weight lifted and her hips followed.  The leg wrapped around his thigh moved to his hip, keeping his erection pressed against her.  She was going to kill him, really she was. 

 

When his hands closed over her soft, cotton covered breasts, Ginny protests turned to moans of pleasure and, _shit_ , Harry wanted skin.  A back clasp.  _Goddamn_ it.  He hated working these bloody things.  He was absolute rubbish at it and sure to just embarrass himself, revealing to Ginny exactly how inept he really was.  Oh, fuck it. 

 

Tearing his lips away, Harry took the center of her bra between his thumb and forefinger. 

 

“ _Veccia_ ,” he bit out, quite sure his voice was too breathless for the spell to work. 

But, to his surprise, the bra snapped open and Ginny gasped, her eyes wide with shock. 

 

“Wandless magic?”

 

Harry’s lip quirked up at the side and he taunted, his voice deep and scratchy, “Scared?” 

 

But, of _course_ , Ginny just smiled and took the words as a challenge, lifting her head to capture his lips.  Feeling a bit sadistic, Harry wouldn’t let her have them.  He was careful to keep his face a breath away from hers as his hand found her newly bared breast and kneaded, his thumb tracing her nipple.  He could feel her breath accelerate against him as she whimpered with need.

 

Harry smiled, but still he didn’t kiss her.  Instead, he moved his mouth south, sucking and biting on her chin and neck.  Today, he didn’t care if he marked her, if it hurt.  The next time Ginny saw this lover of hers he’d know Harry had her as well.  He hoped the prick would see how much she enjoyed herself, realize that she’d arched into his mouth and moaned.

 

He moved to her nipple and Ginny growled and _keened_ , crying out, “Harry!” 

 

Grinning triumphantly against her skin, Harry let the nipple fall from his mouth, enjoying her groans of objection.  He noticed that she never tried to free herself from her jumper.  It wouldn’t have been too difficult.  Strange that.  Hotter than hell, but strange. 

 

He continued his downward exploration with biting kisses along the surface of her softly rounded stomach until he reached the buttons of her jeans.  The sight jerked him out of his fog a bit.  Oh God, they were really going to do this.  Harry was so hard he could barely stand it, but what if—

 

“What are you waiting for, Potter?”

 

Rage and humiliation wiped away any hesitation he felt faster than a heartbeat.  Harry ripped open her jeans like a man possessed.  When he yanked them over her hips Ginny mewled with approval and he felt his cock twitch in response.

 

He cautioned himself not to feel _too_ proud of her reaction.  Ginny clearly enjoyed shagging.  It had nothing to do with Harry, per se.  In truth, he was bound to pale in comparison—it didn’t matter. 

 

Her knickers caught on her jeans and were halfway off before Harry realized what was happening.  He quickly yanked them over her feet with the rest of it.  There was no reason to be a gentleman.  It obviously wasn’t what Ginny wanted and it sure as _hell_ wasn’t what he wanted.

 

He caught a glance of her struggling to free her hands from her jumper and pounced.  With a feral growl, Harry grabbed her arms and pinned them to the rumpled coverlet, keeping himself suspended above her as he panted for breath. 

 

Instead of looking cowed, Ginny smiled up at him beatifically.  Wrapping both of her legs around his waist, she yanked him down to her, catching Harry off balance and making him fall forward onto his elbows.  He couldn’t help but groan at the sudden contact with her bare flesh, even as he struggled to keep himself suspended above her. 

 

Harry needed to maintain some control.  He needed … _damn_ , Ginny was so fucking beautiful.  Her red hair was darker where it clung to her sweaty skin, tangled and tossed around her face like a cloud of fire.  Her pale skin was rosy with exertion, gleaming in the candlelight. 

 

Ginny stared up at him through half closed eyes and bit her bottom lip.  It was fuller and redder than usual from snogging.  God, how could anyone _not_ want her?  Harry finally captured her lips again and she moaned into his mouth.  She was incredible.

 

Sinking into the kiss as deeply as she would allow, Harry frantically tore open his own jeans, the back of his hand brushing her curls as he did so.  Ginny bucked against his hand.  She was so wet.  Shit.  Even with that light touch he could feel it and the way she responded ...  Fuck, he needed to be inside her.  He needed to be inside her _now_.  He’d waited so long.  Forever.

 

Somehow, Harry managed to get his jeans and pants around his knees, but didn’t think he could bear moving far enough away to get them all the way off and judging by the way Ginny was wreathing against him, she didn’t want that either. 

 

He’d wanted this for ages.  Why wait?  Half of Magical Britain had probably had her, why shouldn’t he?  Ginny _was_ his.  Harry shouldn’t have left her behind.  This never would have happened if he hadn’t left.

 

Sickening regret and jealousy churned in Harry’s stomach, making his head spin.  He needed to make it all go away, erase it.  He needed to wipe the memory of every man who ever touched her off of her skin and claim what was his.

 

Breaking the kiss, Harry gasped for breath as his hand found her hip.  He must be gripping her too tightly, but couldn’t seem to stop himself as he posed himself at her entrance, fumbling and embarrassed at his own pathetic virginity.  God, he must seem so sad to her. 

 

Shaking with concentration, Harry pushed those thoughts aside and braced himself, carefully pressing into her, pausing only for a second when he met with resistance.  Was that normal …?  Shit, she was so tight, so warm and wet.  God.  Fuck.  It was just like he imagined.  No, better.  _So_ much better.  It was … _God_! 

 

His body took over and with one forceful push he thrust through the resistance and sank fully into her.  Oh God, it was …

 

Ginny’s harsh scream ripped through the still air of the cabin, snapping Harry out of his blissful haze.  _That_ wasn’t a scream of pleasure. 

 

Panting, he struggled back up onto his elbows.  Maybe he was crushing her … maybe …  bloody _hell_!  Harry’s blurry eyes finally focused on Ginny’s face.  Her features were twisted up in pain and tears trickled from her tightly closed lids.  Far from the breathless panting of before, her breathing was now ragged and harsh.  Whimpers escaped from her tightly clenched lips.

 

Oh God.  This couldn’t be.  Harry hadn’t just … He looked down, between their bodies, and with monumental effort managed to pull halfway out of her.  He should have pulled all the way out, but he couldn’t.  He … he just wasn’t strong enough.  He … _shit_!   Fucking bollocks! 

 

That wasn’t … that wasn’t _blood_ , was it?  Could it be?  He could barely make out a red tint.  His eyes were bad, but then the pieces began to fall together, the resistance, the tightness, the pain on her face …

 

“You lied,” Harry breathed, almost reverently.  Ginny only whimpered in response.  Dear God.  She’d _lied_.  Ginny hadn’t been with all those men. 

 

Through the shock, a wave of possessiveness barged its way to the forefront, bringing with it a wash of love and relief.  Ginny had lied.  Thank God.  Eyes wide, Harry looked back down into her face.  It was still contorted in pain, her eyes shut.  She’d been a virgin.  No one had had her before him.

 

Suddenly, everything made sense.  Of course, she lied.  The Ginny Harry knew wouldn’t have slagged herself across England.  She may have got herself a steady boyfriend and lost her virginity, but then she wouldn’t have offered herself to Harry so casually.  But why would she lie?  Shit.  And she was in pain. 

 

That was when the self-disgust began to sink in.  Not only had Harry believed what should have been an obvious untruth, but … oh God, he’d just taken Ginny’s virginity in about the most callous and brutal manner possible, without a thought to the gentleness she deserved.  He was a monster.

 

“Ginny, I …” Harry wiped the tears away from her face with his fingertips, careful to be as gentle as he could.  He moved awkwardly, struggling to keep still and not hurt her further. 

 

Maybe … maybe he was wrong.  His nearsighted eyes could be misreading things.  Maybe she wasn’t a virgin.  Maybe she was just inexperienced.  Then what Harry had done wouldn’t have been _so_ bad.  And maybe … “You were a virgin?” he asked desperately.

 

Squeezing her eyes even more tightly closed and swallowing what sounded like a sob, Ginny finally nodded.

_Fuck_!  He was _such_ a prick.  How could he have been so _stupid_?  Harry’s head dropped to her shoulder, his breathing harsh.  _Now_ what was he supposed to do?  His treacherous body was crying out for him to _move_!  The tightness around him was nothing short of delicious and the waves of pleasure barely dimmed in response to his self-hatred.

 

But there was no decision to make.  Harry couldn’t hurt Ginny any more.  He needed to pull out.  So, why the _hell_ wasn’t he pulling out?  How had he come to this place?  What was he _doing_?  Why had Ginny …? 

 

“Why?” he murmured before he made the decision to ask it aloud. His lips grazed her skin as he spoke and he kept his eyes closed, but then Ginny sniffled and Harry forced himself to at least give her the courtesy of looking at her. 

 

“I dunno,” Ginny whispered, so low he could barely make out the words, her watery eyes finally opening.  “Maybe … maybe I was angry ... or crazy. Maybe I was just tired of being treated like a fragile princess in a tower.  I’m not going to break, Harry …” Her voice broke and she trailed off, biting her lip and turning her head away.

 

Harry shook his head in confusion, his mind foggy.  He didn’t understand. _Who_ thought she was fragile?  Him?  A princess in a tower …?  Was this about him leaving?  He thought Ginny understood that.  She had been nothing but strong and accepting when they broke up.

 

It was too great a concept for his lust addled mind and he was shaking with the effort to keep from moving inside of her, from letting go and letting his body rut her like an animal until he finally found release.  Frantic, Harry began in a harsh whisper, “Ginny, I … I am _so_ sor—”

 

“ _Don’t_!”  Ginny snapped, with a surprisingly clear, firm voice.  “ _Don’t_ be sorry.  Not for being with me.  _Please_ , Harry.”

                 

“I’m not,” Harry denied automatically.  But he _was_ sorry.  Not for being with her, but for hurting her, for leaving her even though he had to, for making her feel as though she had to lie to him.  “Ginny, I …”  His throat was tight.  Shit, now _he_ was going to cry.  Bloody brilliant. Very manly.

 

Harry gathered his strength and started to pull out of her.  He needed to think.  He couldn’t do _think_ when he was inside of her.  He—

 

“No!” she cried.  Ginny tightened her legs around him and pulled him deeper … Aw _fuck_!  What did she think she was doing?  Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?  Of course she didn’t, she was a _virgin_.

 

“Please, don’t stop,” Ginny said more softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that found its way into Harry’s heart and twisted.  He didn’t deserve to be with her. 

 

“Ginny …” he began, then broke off with a gasp as she ground her hips into him.  Didn’t that _hurt_?  “Holy fuck, Gin.  You’ve _got_ to stop,” he panted.  “You’re killing me.  Just …” He lowered himself gently on top of her and brought one hand to her hip, forcing her to stop gyrating.  He was still buried inside her as far as he could go, but … “Just give me a second.  I need a second.”

 

Resting his lips against her cheekbone, Harry took deep calming breaths.  “I don’t want to hurt you.  I was … I was too rough.  I …”  His voice broke in a humiliating way, but then Ginny said something that made his heart clench and his cock throb.

 

“I liked it.”

 

Ginny said it so softly that Harry could barely make it out … but _damn_!  It was a miracle that he hadn’t already exploded and humiliated himself.

 

Harry managed to lift himself up and meet her eyes.  They shined back at him, warm fathomless pools full of honesty and life.  “God, Ginny you’re going to be the death of me if you keep saying things like that—”

 

“Make love to me.”

_God_.  She certainly knew how to up the ante.  Harry gave a choked sob and squeezed his eyes shut.  Looking back down at her, he asked softly, “Are you sure?”

 

“Don’t make me beg, Harry.” 

 

“No.  No, I won’t,” he assured almost desperately and she gave him a soft smile that was so much like the Ginny he knew that it hurt. 

 

Carefully, gently, with the reverence she deserved, Harry lowered his head and began kissing her again.  He was going to do this right this time.  He just needed to keep from coming a _bit_ longer. 

 

Harry’d probably already set some sort of record for being a virgin and holding back.  Maybe someday he could be proud of that.  Right now, he knew that it was well-deserved self-loathing that had got him this far. 

 

But now … _now_ he needed to somehow block out the agonizing pleasure, ignore all sensations radiating from below his waist or he was done for.  He could do this.  Harry spent years developing mental control.  He just needed to concentrate on Ginny.  He could do this.  For a few more minutes anyway.  Hopefully.  God, this wasn’t going to work.

 

With the utmost care, Harry ran his hands up her arms, keeping their kisses deep, slow, and thorough.  Freeing her hands from the tangled jumper, he entwined their fingers and she squeezed his hands.  The simple act made him pause, his chest constricting.  For some reason, it felt more intimate than anything that had happened before.

 

Ginny mewled into his mouth and when she pushed against him, Harry realized, with no small amount of panic, that his control had just been pushed to the breaking point.  Tearing away his mouth away, his muscles shaking with the effort to stay still, he gasped, “God, Gin.  I can’t hold back.  I …”

 

She squeezed his hands one more time before letting go to cup his face.  Caressing his cheeks with her thumbs, she whispered, “Then don’t.”

 

His hips jerked raggedly at her words.  This was it.  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he panted almost hysterically.

 

“Let _go_ , Harry.”

 

No.  He couldn’t.  Harry needed to try and give her _some_ pleasure first … but there was no time.  His hips were jerking almost continuously now and all he could do was pant, “You all right?”

 

“Harry!  I _said,_ let go.”

 

His control splintered and he thrust into her with far too much force.  Harry kept his face buried in Ginny’s shoulder, not able to bear seeing her in pain again.  Luckily, he only lasted two, three thrusts at the most, before lights exploded behind his eyelids. 

 

His lips digging into her temple, words began pouring out involuntarily.  “Ginny.  Ginny.  God.  Oh _God_.”  Harry had never felt anything this good.  _So_ damn good.  This was Ginny.  His Ginny.  _Only_ his.  “God.  Love you.  God, I love you.”  And he exploded, shooting his seed into her with rough jerks of his hips.

 

The relief he felt rivaled the pleasure, leaving him drained and heavy, his body humming.  When he could final form a coherent thought, Harry became aware that he was lying on top of Ginny as she stroked his back and hair with long soothing strokes.

That was when all the self-recrimination flooded back in.  God, Ginny was … had been a virgin and Harry made her first experience absolute rubbish.  She hadn’t even enjoyed it. 

 

“I’m sor—”

 

“Shh,” Ginny soothed, smoothing back his sweaty hair.  “What did I say about that phrase?”

 

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.  She was amazing.  He hugged her to him, savoring the kisses she pressed into his hair.  He loved her so—

 

Oh God, he’d said that out loud.  Goddamn it.  He hadn’t meant for Ginny to know his secret.  But it seemed this was Harry’s day for “hadn’t meant to” and there was no taking it back now.  All he could do was make it up to her … make _everything_ up to her, leaving her, kidnapping her, hurting her … his vast never-ending sins. 

 

As he pushed himself up onto his arms, Harry was surprised to find how difficult it was.  His limbs felt rather like wet noodles and … bloody hell, she was beautiful.  Ginny smiled. Why would she want _him_?  Yet, she did and he couldn’t leave her wanting.

 

Tenderly, Harry kissed her lips … her cheek … her nose … her temple, all the while pulling up to his knees and stifling a groan as he slipped out of her.  Ginny moaned, her eyes fluttering closed, a look of intent concentration on her face.  He was glad.  This was easier without her looking at him. 

 

Now that the burning _need_ was gone, Harry found himself feeling self-conscious and awkward in his own body.  With shame, he realized Ginny was starkers while he was still almost completely clothed.  She must feel so vulnerable.  Quickly, he yanked off his shirt and kicked off his jeans.

 

As rapidly as he could, not wanting to leave Ginny unattended for long, Harry went back to kissing her.  His lips traveled along her neck, relearning the spots that make her keen.  He had to fix this before the last of her arousal left her.  This was her _first_ time.  He didn’t want her remembering it with regret. 

 

Ginny turned her head and arched her neck, giving him better access.  She still must be feeling _something_ , even if the urgency she had shown before had vanished with her virginity.  Carefully, Harry began placing laving kisses along her shoulder blade as he gently removed the tatters of her bra.  Damn, _that_ wasn’t going to be easy to fix.

 

Harry rolled onto his side, removing his weight and lowering himself next to her.   Ginny immediately followed, turning toward him and coming back into his arms.  They both hissed as their skin made full body contact for the first time and they came together once more in a deep, sensuous kiss.  It was amazing how, after all this time, they could move together so well, almost as though it was instinct.

 

Cradling her head with his trapped arm, Harry used his free hand to trace her breast.  His thumb stroked her nipple teasingly before giving into her whimpers and capturing the tip between his thumb and forefinger, as he knew she wanted.  He rolled the small bit of pink flesh and, instantly, Ginny’s fingernails dug into his back.

 

She let out a muffled cry that Harry felt straight to his cock as it enthusiastically jumped back to life. God, he could still feel Ginny around him, tight and … it was _amazing_.  How would it feel if she was enjoying it as much as he was?  If … _No_!  This time was about her.  _Just_ her.  Harry gave Ginny one last kiss, capturing her lower lip between his teeth for a light nip before moving to latch onto her nipple and suck.

 

“Mmmm, Harry,” Ginny hummed appreciatively and he smiled against her flesh, flicking the nipple with his tongue until her breathing quickened and her hips began to buck.  That was _much_ better.  Gently, Harry kneaded her belly, slowly moving his hand down to trace her curls until he found that magical nub that made her moan and scream his name. 

 

They’d done this less often, but enough times that Ron would kill him if he knew.  That was _after_ he died of shock at learning exactly how fast his best mate and baby sister had gone.  And Harry certainly hadn’t pushed her, either.  She was just … _enthusiastic_. With everything Ginny was enthusiastic and _so_ full of life.  How could he not fall in love with her? 

 

Despite her accusations, Harry knew _exactly_ who Ginny was.  He knew she was strong of body _and_ mind.  He knew she always did precisely what she wanted, _always_ made her own decisions.  Ginny was passionate and adventurous and anything _but_ fragile.  That was _why_ Harry loved her, needed her … needed her safe.

 

Still suckling her breast, his thumb circled the small nub at the apex of her thighs, applying the barest of pressures.  Ginny arched into him and bent her leg so he could slide his forefinger inside of her.  Her breath hissed and Harry froze, lifting his head to look into her face.  “This ok?  Are you sore?”

 

Ginny shook her head, causing her hair to whip around her.  She looked almost feverish and _gorgeous_.  “No,” she panted.  “Keep going.”

 

Harry licked his bottom lip, hesitating.  “You’ll tell me if it hurts?”

 

She nodded frantically.  “Yes!  Please … _Harry_.”

 

Nodding anxiously, Harry pressed a kiss to her belly, resting his forehead there as he

concentrated on his thumb, moving it in careful circles while his finger gently slid in and out.  Ginny shuddered, moaning almost continuously now.  It was beautiful. 

 

Harry pushed her gently from her side to her back.  She went easily, parting her thighs in acceptance as she did. _Damn_ , she was amazing.  He kissed her belly again.  It was quivering.  Moving to kiss her short ginger curls, Ginny’s hand found the back of his head, encouraging him to continue.

 

He wanted to use his tongue, but it was safer the other way.  Harry had only used his mouth once and he’d been far _less_ successful.  That was the night before he left, when he snuck into her room and … and what if there was still blood down there?  It could be really gross.

 

But Ginny continued to pull at his hair, none too gently either, making it abundantly clear what she wanted.  Finally, Harry gave in.  If that was what she wanted, then that’s what she’d get.  He just hoped he wouldn’t be rubbish at this as well.  And that he didn’t gag. 

Looking at her folds more closely than he ever had before, Harry breathed in Ginny’s sent and found himself just as aroused as he was before they shagged.  There was a tinge of pink but no outright blood, thank God. Ok.  He could do this. 

 

Harry’s mouth closed over her and Ginny cried out breathlessly.  She didn’t taste like blood either, she tasted sweet and tangy and rather _fantastic_.  The pressure was on now.  He could do this.  It wouldn’t be _that_ hard, right?  He just needed to do what he did with his fingers.  Yeah, right. 

 

Tentatively, Harry flicked the nub with his tongue and Ginny moaned.  Not bad.  Repeating the gesture, he set up a rhythm until finally her hips were moving continuously and he was having trouble keeping up with her gyrations.

 

Harry focused on her wordless sounds of encouragement and added a second finger, moving it carefully as he sucked lightly and worked his tongue.  Finally, Ginny pulled his hair so hard that Harry thought it would come out in clumps as her thigh and abdominal muscles went rigid. 

 

She screamed.  Screamed so loud his ears rang.  No one would be surprised to find out Ginny Weasley was a screamer.  Though, Harry was always surprised by how much he enjoyed it.

 

When she finally relaxed, Harry gave her curls one final kiss before laying his cheek on her belly.  As he listened to Ginny’s heart rate slow to normal, he took pleasure in her now relaxed touch on his hair and did his best to, _again_ , ignore his fully erect cock.

 

“Harry,” Ginny whispered and with great effort Harry looked up at her. 

 

His body felt like lead, but when she tugged at his hair and Harry came willingly up to meet her kiss.  He let her lead, in awe at the way she accepted him, despite where his mouth had just been.  Ginny was sexy and wonderful and the things she made him feel … it was too much.

 

Harry pulled away, flopping onto his back next to her.  He groped for Ginny’s hand, needing distance and contact at the same time.  When he found it, he entwined their fingers and threw his other arm across his eyes, blocking out everything but the feel of her hand and the sound of their breathing.  He didn’t know what to say to her, but suddenly he was talking.

 

“Ron and Hermione got married this morning.”

 

“ _What_!”

 

Harry didn’t know what possessed him to reveal _that_ little piece of information.  It must have been on his mind all along.  It _was_ at the heart of the reason why he had been so driven to see Ginny, why he had shown up at Diagon Alley after being so strong for so long. 

 

Peaking out from under his arm, Harry saw Ginny come up onto her elbow and stare down at him.  She must be angry.  He should have told her right away.  He should have—

Ginny pulled his arm away from his eyes, prompting firmly, “ _Harry_.”

 

Swallowing, he looked beyond her, into the fire.  “They, you know, didn’t want to wait.  The whole ‘life is short’ thing … and all that,” Harry stumbled, feeling stupid.  “Anyway, that’s why they aren’t here tonight.  Why—”

 

“Why you’re spending Christmas alone.”

 

Her tone was soft and heartbreaking.  It made Harry infinitely uncomfortable.  He smiled at her wryly.  “I’m not spending Christmas alone.  I’m spending it with you.”

 

Ginny ignored his attempt at a joke, saying seriously, “Is that why you came to see me?  You were lonely?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry squeezed his eyes shut.  “I came … I came because I’m weak.  The entire ceremony, all I could think of was you, not that I’m not thinking about you all the time anyway, but today it was too much.  The ceremony, then sitting here alone with the snow and the fire and nothing to do but think.  I couldn’t stop myself.  I—”

 

“ _Harry_. ” Ginny said his name insistently and he had no choice but to open his eyes and look at her.  Her expression gave away nothing of what she was thinking, but she was glorious, sitting there, naked and unashamed. 

 

“Harry, did you mean it?  What you said … that you love me?”

 

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

 


	3. Melting

“Harry, did you mean it?  What you said … that you love me?”

 

Ginny looked down at Harry and was suddenly very aware of her own nakedness.  Dear God, how did she expect him to answer a question like that?  “Did I say that?  Well, no, Ginny.  I didn’t mean it.  That’s just something a bloke says mid-orgasm.  Didn’t you know?”

 

Harry’s frighteningly intense dark-green gaze flicked over her briefly before once again finding that fascinating spot on the ceiling.  His hand clenched in hers, reminding her it was there, and Ginny found herself tightening her grip to keep him from pulling away. 

 

“Yeah,” Harry murmured softly.  “Yeah.  I meant it.”

 

Her breath left in a whoosh and Ginny had to close her eyes against the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.  She had been dreaming about hearing Harry say he loved her since she was ten years old.  But to hear it now, after everything, after he’d chucked her, then _abandoned_ her without a word for a year and a half ...

 

 “You didn’t mean to say it, did you?” she asked, her words coming out in a choked sob.  Ginny was beyond caring if Harry saw her cry.  What was there left to hide?

 

“No,” he whispered.

 

Of course not.  Those words meant the absolute world to her, so, naturally, Harry would keep them to himself.  Just like he’d kept everything else from her, kept _himself_ from her.  He was selfish.  Plain and simple. 

 

“You weren’t even … you didn’t even plan on talking to me today, did you?” Ginny accused.  “You were just going to peak through the windows, see I was all right, and Disapparate.  That’s right, isn’t it?”

 

With a groan, Harry closed his eyes, confessing, “Yes.”

 

Ginny clenched her jaw as rage flared and tears began to flow anew.  “Goddamn you, Harry Potter!” she spat as all the anger that had melted away in their passion fought its way back to the forefront. 

 

Furiously, Ginny grabbed a pillow from the bed and hurled it at Harry’s head.  Then turning from him, she yanked a bunched-up coverlet from under his arm to cover her nakedness as she scrambled off the far side of the bed.  Doing her best to look more menacing than clumsy, she flounced the blanket over her shoulder and glared down at the stupid prat.

 

Harry stared back at her with wide-eyed shock.  Laying there, deliciously starkers and all grown up, he looked bloody gorgeous and it only made her tears flow faster.  At least the git had the grace to look absolutely terrified.  Good.  He _should_ be afraid.  Ginny was feeling positively murderous.

 

“How dare you!” she screamed, making Harry wince as he groped helplessly for his glasses.  Ginny didn’t give him a second to find them, with one fist on her hip and the other clutching the coverlet to her chest, she demanded, “How can you say that you love me and treat me this way?  You _left_ me!  You keep things from me!  You selfish _prick_!”

 

As good as the rant felt, it didn’t have the desired effect.  Harry didn’t look at all contrite.  He pushed his glasses over the bridge of his nose and looked up at her with that damned whipped puppy expression, saying in a disgustingly earnest tone, “I just wanted you to be safe.”

 

“ _Bullocks_!” Ginny yelled back, completely beyond tempering anything she said.  “No one’s safe.  Not _one_ bloody person.  Ron and Hermione certainly aren’t safe, but they’re goddamn _married_.”  Her voice cracked but she continued to glare at him, her back straight and her chin high.

 

“Ginny,” Harry pleaded.  “Ron’s not—”

 

“Not the bloody _Chosen_.  I’ve heard that daft argument, remember?”  Harry was so damned inflexible.  “If you can’t think of anything better—”

 

“God _damn_ it, Ginny!” he burst out, finally raising his voice.  He sat up, angrily yanking at the sheets and pulling them over his lap.  Ginny refused to let her eyes wander to what they may be hiding.  Her jaw clenched and unclenched with the effort it took to keep her gaze on his face.

 

Then Harry made it easy, yelling, “Do you _want_ to be the most hunted witch in the world?  Because that’s what would happen!  Voldemort—”

 

“Blah, blah, _blah_.  I’ve heard this all before!  Would you like to know what I _want_ , Harry?  Would you really like to know?” Ginny demanded.  He just stared back at her, jaw clamped tight. 

 

“Well, I’ll tell you what I _don’t_ want.  I don’t want to live the way I’m living.  I don’t want to be coddled and protected.  Not now.  Not ever.  I want to fight the goddamned war that’s _ruining_ my life.  But you never bothered to ask me what I wanted, did you?”

 

She swiped at her drenched face and took a deep, sharp breath, willing her voice to even out.  Harry shook his head, more in denial than in answer to her question. 

 

“How can you say you love me?” Ginny repeated, even louder this time, almost as if she could somehow overpower the horrible empty feeling growing inside of with her screaming alone.  If he’d never seen the real Ginny, then everything about their relationship was a lie.  He didn’t love her.  He didn’t fancy her.  He didn’t even … “You don’t even _know_ me.”

 

Harry’s face changed at that, hardened.  “You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!”

 

She scoffed, laughing cruelly.  Did he think he was going to subdue her with harsh language?  Since when did Harry swear so much anyway?  “You don’t love _me_.  You love the ideal.  The sweet innocent paragon of virtue.  Your best friend’s darling little sister.  I’m convenient, that’s all.”  And there it was.  Her deepest fear.  Now it was out in the open and he had the power to destroy her with it.

 

Harry shook his head.  “You’re wrong,” he said matter-of-factly and Ginny knew that if he didn’t have more to say than that, it was really and truly over.  She bit her lip to keep it from trembling as he climbed off the bed, slinging a sheet around his waist.

 

He didn’t say anything until he was standing so close that Ginny could feel the heat of his body.  She held herself tense to keep herself from retreating.  “No, Ginny, I love _you_. 

And let me tell you, the _last_ thing that it is is convenient.  You don’t think I understand that you’re strong?  That you’ve lived through things that would have broken most men, with your spirit and your humor miraculously intact … _shit_.”

 

He broke off and turned from her.  Stalking to the fire, Harry bent over as if in pain.  Ginny stared at him, afraid to believe him.  But even more than that, afraid to deny his words before he had a chance to prove them to her.  Afraid that they _weren’t_ true.

 

So, she stood, still, and watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose.  When Harry spun back to her, his arms were crossed over his muscled chest defensively.  His voice was scratchy and hoarse.  “I know … I _know_ that you’re independent and passionate.  I know that that you could swear your brothers under the table and out prank the worst of them.  I _know_ you would fight next to me in the final battle and I can’t let that happen.”

 

“Why the hell not!” Ginny cried.  Tears ran so heavily down her face that she could taste them with every breath.  Harry couldn’t say these things to her and then deny her the right to be with him.  It wasn’t fair.  _All_ she wanted was to be with him.  “If I want—”

 

“You don’t _understand_ ,” Harry snapped, covering his face with his hands and throwing back his head in frustration.  “Ugh!”

 

Then he collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his head drooping.  He looked almost defeated as he said softly, “I don’t _want_ to fight this war, Ginny.  I _have_ to.  I’m the only one who can and I can’t do it if you’re not safe.  I need to know that there is one good thing left, whole and worth fighting for, or I couldn’t keep this up day after day.”

 

“There’s a war back home, as well, Harry,” Ginny whispered, the fight slowly draining out of her.  She understood but … couldn’t he see that keeping her safe was killing her all the same.

 

For some reason, her soft words only seemed to make Harry angrier.  “You’re a smart witch, Ginny.  What is it you don’t understand?  If we were together you wouldn’t be the average blood-traitor or even member of the Order of the Phoenix.  Voldemort’s not stupid.  He’d focus all of his energy on you.  He’d take you and if he killed you, I couldn’t keep fighting.  If he wanted to trade, I’d—”

 

“No, you wouldn’t,” Ginny denied quickly, unable to stand the self-recrimination.  He was her hero.  _No one_ despoiled him.  “You’d do the right thing.  You’re Harry.  You _always_ do the right thing.”

 

Harry gave a short bitter laugh, looking up at her incredulously.  “No, Ginny, I _don’t_ and I _wouldn’t_.  Not in that situation.  I really, _really_ wouldn’t.”

 

Ginny didn’t know what to say.  It was too much and life was ridiculously cruel.  She opened her mouth to say so, but something entirely different came out.  “I love you as well.”

 

His eyes jerked up, flashing in the firelight and she swallowed.  Harry’s nose scrunched up as if he was fighting tears and he tore off his glasses, pressing his fingers to closed lids.  It was enough to break a witch’s heart.

 

“And I …” Ginny continued, but then trailed off, not sure what she was about to say, what she _should_ say.  Taking a deep, shaky breath, she climbed back onto the bed and knelt next to Harry, careful to keep her blanket tightly around her.  Softly, she asked, “Do you want to know why I was on the street alone today?” 

 

Harry replaced his glasses and his eyes, once again, fell on Ginny.  Her skin tingled every place his eyes fell.  She wanted to touch him, but was afraid for some reason.  He searched her face for a long moments before he swallowed, nodding solemnly.

 

Ginny let out an anxious breath and said as calmly and as bravely as she could manage, “I couldn’t stand it anymore, hiding, being coddled and protected.  All around me people fight and die and live and love.  And you … I didn’t know if you were alive or dead or if you were ever coming home.  If you even thought about me any—”

 

Harry shook his head, “No, I—”

 

“Shh.”  Ginny hushed him with a finger against his lips and he leaned into her touch.  Suddenly, the very air around them seemed more intimate.  She ran her thumb along his bottom lip and cupped his jaw with her palm.  Harry held her hand there, kissing the pad of her thumb.  God, she’d missed him so much.

 

Sniffling, Ginny forced herself to continue, “I was standing there, working at that horrible, meaningless job at my brother’s store, and I looked out the window at the snow and it struck me that it was free and I wasn’t.  Snow might melt as soon as it hits the ground, but at least, for a moment, it was _free_.”

 

“I don’t want you to melt, Ginny,” Harry whispered and the look in his face was agonizing to see.  That alone was almost enough to make her understand why he had done the things he’d done.

 

Her throat constricted and she found it difficult to talk.  So, instead, Ginny leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.  When she pulled away, she found herself drawn into the depths of his eyes.  Did he understand that she needed him?  That she needed to be a part of his fight?  _Their_ fight?

 

“I want to _live_ , Harry,” Ginny told him ardently, her voice low and her face inches from his.  “We’re at war and we could die at any moment.  You could lock me in hole in the ground and I could _still_ die.”

 

Pain flashed in Harry’s eyes and he shook his head in denial, but Ginny pressed on, “I _could_ and so could you.  I just don’t want that to happen before I’ve really lived, before I’ve had the chance to be with you.  _Really_ be with you.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.  He just continued to shake his head dumbly.  Turning more fully toward her, he pulled his legs up onto the bed and reached for her.  His hand cradled her cheek with heartrending tenderness as he leaned in and brought his lips back to hers.

 

His kiss was filled with affection, quiet passion.  It was almost worshipful and did nothing to dry Ginny’s eyes.  It was hard to imagine that Harry _didn’t_ love her.  Not when he kissed her like this.  He moved his other hand to slip into her hair and the kiss went on and on.  Ginny whimpered, climbing onto his lap.  They weren’t close enough.  They’d never be close enough. 

 

If this was a kiss designed to show her how deeply Harry felt for, it was working.  It was so intimate, so full of emotion.  And suddenly it was obvious that everything Harry said about why he left her was true.  But more important than that, he didn’t see her as fragile and innocent.  It really _was_ Ginny he saw, Ginny he loved.

 

When she interpreted his actions to mean he didn’t think she could take care of herself, she forgot one thing … _Harry_.  Harry, who thought it was his responsibility to protect everyone, whether it was the greatest Auror in Britain or the smallest newborn.  Harry, who had grown up with no idea what a respectful, loving relationship looked like.  Of course, he would think leaving and loving were one in the same.

 

Ginny should have understood that from the beginning.  Harry didn’t know how to be with someone.  He needed her to show him how and she’d let her stupid pride get in the way.  It had been so important for her to show a strong façade when he broke up with her that she’d mucked it all up.  She should have fought.  She never should have let him leave.  She should have _followed_. 

 

Drawing back, Ginny focused on Harry’s face as his eyes fluttered open from behind his round lenses.  She watched his beautiful eyes travel her face with complete adoration.  How could she have doubted him?

 

Harry ran his tongue over his bottom lip and took a deep breath.  “Gin—”

 

“Shh,” Ginny murmured, pressing her fingers to his lips once more. “I know.”  His eyes melted, shimmering green pools behind heavy lids.  The look was so sensual that Ginny felt it deep in the pit of her belly, eliciting a heady warmth that built and spread through her veins. 

 

Harry kissed her fingertips, just the barest of brushes as his hand closed around her wrist to keep her hand to his mouth.  Meeting Ginny’s eyes again, he parted his lips, his tongue lightly circling her fingertips before he took them gently into his mouth.

 

Groaning, Ginny smiled lazily at him.  Who knew there was such a deep sensual side locked deep inside the stalwart hero?  With her free hand she cupped his strong jaw, feeling it work as he suckled her fingers before she ran the flat of her palm down his neck and shoulder until it found its way to his well-defined chest.

 

There was a light sprinkling of fuzz that wasn’t there before he left and Ginny ran her fingers through it.  Enjoying the feel of skin and sinew, she rubbed circles on his chest.  Harry groaned, his head falling back, her fingers falling from his parted mouth. 

 

Tracing his wet lips, she wondered at the strong reaction to such a simple touch.  Her poor dear Harry, he was starved for affection.  Ginny should never have let him leave her.  He _needed_ her.  Leaning toward him, she kissed him again, pushing him back onto the bed and climbing over him.  She wanted to make love to Harry the way he had made love to her earlier. 

 

It was even more beautiful in retrospect, the way he had practically worshiped her body.  It was strange.  Ginny had started off craving his unrestrained passion, which _had_ been fantastic, of that there was no doubt.  Though, the rendering of her virginity had been far more painful than she could have anticipated.

 

But afterward.  God, _afterward._  Harry … he was _so_ wonderful.  The slow, controlled passion had been amazing.  Just remembering the care he had given to her body made Ginny’s heart constrict.  She wanted to make him feel that way, to feel adored.

 

Harry tried to deepen the kiss, but Ginny pulled away.  Smiling down at him with just a hint of wickedness, she pressed a nipping kiss to the hard line of his jaw instead, making him moan.  He tried to grab for her, but she pushed his hands away.  It was _his_ turn.

 

She ran her lips down the muscles of his neck, but it was when her teeth grazed his skin that he groaned and arched into her.  That figured.  Ginny shook her head.  Harry _would_ be turned on by pain.  Ah, well.  She knew he was screwed up when she chose him. 

 

She sank her teeth into the hard muscle of his shoulder then soothed the skin with a wet kiss.  Harry threw back his head, crying out hoarsely, “God, Ginny!”

 

She almost laughed, but was too busy lavishing him with her sweet torture, alternating bites and kisses over his newly developed biceps, before working her way back to the plains of his chest.  It wasn’t long before Harry was wreathing and mumbling incoherently below her. 

 

Smiling to herself, Ginny sat back on his thighs and peered down at the hard cock peaking through the tangled sheets, bobbing against her belly with every move she made.  The sight made her feel absurdly powerful and feminine.  When she shimmied down and nipped his belly Harry’s hips jumped and his cock brushed against her breast.  That was awfully   _nice_.

 

“Shit, Ginny,” Harry panted.  “You’re going to kill me.”

 

“Language, Harry,” Ginny teased, smiling broadly.  “What would Hermione say?”  He chuckled, deep and husky, and she felt the warm tone resonate deep in her chest.  Harry needed to laugh more. 

 

Breathless, he managed to retort, “Hermione’s not here.  Thank _God_.” 

 

Harry said it so fervently, that Ginny couldn’t help but giggle and came back up to kiss him in reward.  “Mmm,” he hummed in appreciation, his hands gently stroking her hair from her face as the kiss deepened.  It was amazing how much someone could love another person.

 

They fell into a rhythm and Ginny found herself being seduced by the deep stoke of his tongue. And that wasn’t any good at all.  She was supposed to be seducing _him_.  Sliding her hand between, she found Harry’s nipple and brushed her thumb across it.

 

Immediately, he cried out, breaking the kiss and pushing his cock into her thigh.  Sensitive, were we?  Leaning back, Ginny grinned down at him.  It was time to get down to business.  She reached to take off his glasses.

 

Harry grabbed her wrist.  “Don’t!”  Ginny startled and his voice softened instantly,

“Please.  I want to see you.”

 

Her eyebrows shot up and a flash of arousal sped straight to her core, leaving Ginny more than a little dizzy.  Suppressing a smile, Ginny shimmied up to settle over his stomach, his cock grazing her through the thin sheet as she did so.  Harry’s eyes rolling back into his head was a beautiful sight.  She detangled herself from the last of the coverlet and tossed it aside.

 

“God,” he moaned, when his eyes finally focused, looking at her as if he didn’t quite believe she was real.  Finally, his hot gaze traveled over her starkers body, making her skin burn.

 

“This what you wanted to see?” she teased.  Harry nodded eagerly and Ginny was amazed at her own lack of embarrassment.  Chuckling, she leaned closer, watching his eyes move with the sway of her breasts.  “I think you wanted to see more than this, yeah?  Feeling a bit pervy, love?”

 

Harry shook his head, his expression serious, seeming to have missed her cheeky tone.  “No,” he said breathlessly.  “No, you’re just … you’re just _so_ beautiful.  God, I missed you, Gin.”

 

The rush of emotions his words elicited finally wiped away her teasing smile.  So, this was what it was like to _truly_ feel beautiful? 

 

Oh, Ginny knew she was attractive, very much so.  She wasn’t stupid.  She didn’t have poor self-esteem.  She wasn’t blind.  She knew the way blokes looked at her.  She had been heavily admired for some years now.

 

But, for some reason, being around Harry always made Ginny feel like an awkward thirteen year-old again, enjoying the clumsy, if sweet, attentions of Neville Longbottom, while Harry danced with one of the prettiest girls at school.  Yet, looking in his eyes now, the woman reflected back was more beautiful than any she’d _ever_ seen in her mirror.

 

Harry reached up and ran his hands over her sides, making Ginny shudder and lose her train of thought.  Shaking her head to clear it, she murmured, “Nah uh.  It’s my turn.” 

 

Purposefully placing the coy smile back on her face, she removed his hands from her bare skin and entwined his fingers with hers.  Her breasts brushed his chest as she brought their hands up over his head and he groaned.  “Be good?” she asked.

 

Chuckling breathlessly, Harry nodded.  “For now.”  And if that wasn’t the kind of promise that could melt a witch into a puddle of want, Ginny didn’t know what was. 

 

But _first,_ she had to focus.  Mimicking Harry’s actions from before, Ginny ran her hands slowly down his arms and over his shoulders, her eyes fixed on his the entire time.  “Tell me what you missed,” she commanded, hiding her own growing need with a teasing, confident tone.

 

Harry laughed softly, the premature lines on his face relaxing under her careful ministrations.  Smiling lazily, he went along with her, beginning, “I missed … I missed your freckles.”  Playfully, he leaned up and pressed a quick kiss on her shoulder for emphasis.

 

“Bad boy,” Ginny reprimanded, pushing him back and trying not to laugh as she ran her fingernails down his chest as punishment.  Harry shivered and hummed.  “What else?”

 

“I missed your hair.  So beautiful, like fire.  All of you … _fire_ ,” he praised.

 

Ginny pressed a kiss to his nipple in reward for the lovely compliment and if the rumble in his chest was any indication, Harry fancied that even more than his punishment.  Maybe he wasn’t _that_ screwed up after all.  She ran her tongue around the areola and Harry arched into her, gasping, “ _Ginny_.”

 

Blowing on the wet nipple, Ginny blinked up at him innocently.  “I’m listening.”

 

Harry laughed, deep and rich.  “I missed _this_.  How you make me laugh, whenever, wherever, always.  How everything is _fun_ when you’re around.”

 

His words brought tears to her eyes and her teasing touch turned into soft caresses.  She kissed his chest lovingly, stroking his sides.

 

“I miss … I miss _everything_.  I miss how no matter how bad things get, when you’re there, the world still feels like a good place.  God, I just miss _you_ , Ginny.  I love you.”

 

All of Ginny’s breath left her and her forehead fell to his chest.  She struggled with her emotions until she was at least moderately confident she wasn’t going to fall apart.  Then she leaned over until her face was less than an inch from his. 

 

“You’re mine now, Harry Potter,” she whispered passionately.  “That’s it.  You’re not getting rid of me.”

 

Harry took a shuddering breath.  His eyes burning with love and _hope_ , he lifted his head, capturing her lips again.  Ginny cradled his crown, slanting her mouth over his, plunging her tongue into his mouth, sealing her promise, and showing him exactly how she intended upon consummating her vow.

 

Once Harry had been thoroughly snogged, Ginny pulled back and quickly reached behind her.  She swept away the thin sheet over is lap and grasped the cock that was so insolently poking her back.  His eyes snapped wide and he took a sharp hissing breath.  Ginny smiled proudly at his reaction and she gently squeezed him. 

 

Harry arched his back, emitting a loud moan as his hands finally left their position next to his head and reached for her hips.  Then, as if they had suddenly remembered their place, his hands froze, an inch away from her skin before falling obediently next to her, clutching the sheets instead. 

 

Smiling, Ginny stroked his cock lightly in reward for his deference to her wishes.  Then, taking a steadying breath, she came up to her knees and before she lost her nerve, gently guided him to her folds.

 

“ _God_ ,” Harry gasped.  “Ginny, you don’t have to.”  He sounded rather shocked.  What did he think she was going to do?  They were lovers now.  This is what lovers did.

 

“Quiet,” she admonished, closing her eyes in concentration, her thigh muscles tense. 

 

Finding her opening with the tip of his cock, Ginny blocked out Harry’s protestations as she was faced with the lingering soreness of her battered flesh.  Despite her arousal and abundant wetness, a sharp burn emanated from her sex as she stubbornly placed him inside of her.

 

Harry’s breath quickened, but still he insisted, his clenched teeth, “This is _hurting_ you.”

 

Immediately, Ginny cursed herself and worked to control her expression.  She opened her eyes to see Harry’s face, frightened and concerned, glistening with sweat as he fought to keep his body still.  “It’s ok,” she reassured.  “Just … just let me go slowly.  I _want_ to do this.”

 

“Ginny,” he groaned.  It sounded like a protest, but in the end, Harry just nodded frantically and clutched the sheets even tighter.

 

She eased another inch of his cock inside of her before she had to stop and catch her breath.  Her body clenched around him, fighting the invasion.  Whatever Ginny had been anticipating, she really hadn’t thought losing her virginity would be _this_ painful. 

 

If she had, Ginny might have reconsidered her little deception.  It was kind of hard to maintain the role of an experienced seductress when she felt like she was being torn asunder.  But Harry had been gentle in the end, if not the beginning, and the taking of her virginity itself had been quick at least. 

 

This time, however, Ginny was determined to enjoy it.  Not just the wonderful pleasure Harry had given her with his mouth, but the shagging itself.  And she wasn’t leaving this cabin until she understood _exactly_ what all the fuss was about.

 

Carefully, she lifted herself up, easing him out just a fraction before bringing herself back down, sliding another inch inside of her.  That was better.  Almost nice.  Harry seemed to like it quite a bit and gave muffled whimper.  Ginny opened her eyes to see him lying tightly coiled, his eyes squeezed shut as he bit his lip so hard she thought he might draw blood.

 

The sight was arousing enough that when she repeated the gentle back and forth slide this time Ginny sunk to the hilt without pain and she let out a moan that mingled with a harsh cry that tore from Harry’s throat.  He was deeper than he’d been before.  It was a strange feeling.  Not bad.  Different.

 

“ _Amazing_ ,” Harry breathed and Ginny had to smile.  His obvious enjoyment was worth it.  Even if she didn’t feel exactly the same pleasure.

 

“Mmm,” Ginny answered noncommittally, easing up and back, developing a slow rhythm.  Each slide felt better and increased her arousal, but still, it wasn’t quite the bliss she’d been anticipating.

 

It startled her when she felt Harry’s rough hands grasp her hip and Ginny shuddered with the unexpected pleasure the touch brought.  “Can I touch you now?” he asked in a deep sexy voice that was almost more arousing than his touch.

 

Before Ginny could answer, or even decide if she wanted to give up some of her control, one of Harry’s hands found her breast, kneading and flicking her nipple in a delicious double assault that made her eyes flutter closed and a moan fall from her lips. 

 

Well, maybe if he _just_ did that it would all right.  Ginny opened her mouth to explain that she was still in control here.  “Harry, I … oh _God_!”  His other hand snuck around to slide between her folds, deftly finding her clitoris and rubbing.  The hand on her breast never faltered.  _Damn_ , the boy was coordinated.  It wasn’t fair—

 

Dear _God_.  A wave of intense pleasure shot from her breast to her clit and her thighs tensed reflectively, triggering a groan from Harry and increased vigor in his efforts.  All right, maybe it was a _bit_ fair.  Maybe it was more than fair.  Maybe it was _brilliant_.

 

“This ok, Ginny?” Harry asked and Ginny slitted her eyes open, having not even realized they had closed.  The damn wanker was smirking at her.

 

“You stop now and I’ll kill you,” she snapped, ignoring his resulting chuckle.  She was too busy marveling at the way the slide of him inside of her was suddenly quite lovely and the fullness no longer hurt.  Actually, it felt quite amazing, especially where Harry was rubbing, pushing her walls against his cock as he manipulated her clitoris.

 

Harry’s chuckles turned to hums of pleasure as Ginny leaned back, bracing her hands on his thighs and changing her awkward up and down motion to a more fluid rotation as her anxiety disappeared and she began listening to what her body was telling her to do.  

 

Beneath her, Harry wore the most blissful expression.  His eyes burned into her through half closed lids and the muscles of his abdomen stood out in definition as he arched into her. 

 

Ginny threw her head back as the pleasure she was seeking finally began, washing over her in waves.  Still, she was shocked when it suddenly exploded into a shockingly intense orgasm and she screamed wordlessly, her muscles tensing.  Harry’s hand slowed, but didn’t stop, and the pleasure crashed again and again.

 

Finally, gasping for breath, Ginny push his hand away from her sensitive flesh and fell forward onto his chest, drained and panting.  Long minutes passed before she became aware of Harry stroking her slick back with long, soothing strokes. 

 

So _that_ was what all the fuss was about.  A ridiculous smile came over Ginny’s face and she pressed a wet kiss on Harry’s chest.  “Mmm,” she hummed contentedly.  “Well, _that_ was nice.”

 

Harry gave a great bark of a laugh and she could feel the rumblings deep in his chest as he hugged her to him tightly.  “Yeah, that was … _nice_.”

 

Ginny giggled at his tone.  Though, she supposed that it wasn’t quite as _nice_ for Harry.  He was still hard inside of her.  It felt good now, the fullness.  The burning was gone.  Her parts felt swollen and engorged, but they were still throbbing with the soft hum of pleasure. 

 

It would hurt later, but not now.  She pushed back a bit, letting his cock slide deeper inside of her and Harry moaned, making Ginny grin.  They weren’t done yet.  Far from.

 

Propping her elbows up on his chest, Ginny placed her chin in her folded arms and smiled down at him brazenly.  “You know,” she teased, “when I’m on top I’m supposed to be in control.  That’s the whole point.”

 

Harry’s smile widened.  “You seemed to like it.”

 

Ginny did her best to frown at him while she attempted to tease by repeating the up and down pumping motion with her hips.  She managed it, but it was awkward in this position.  If her muscles hadn’t turned into warm honey, she would just sit up and shag him properly.

 

Harry seemed to enjoy her efforts regardless.  His breath hitched and sped up.  “Ginny, shit.  Oh God … please, Gin.  Please,” he groaned.

 

Interpreting his journey into incoherence as meaning he was close, Ginny was about to push herself up and give him what he wanted when Harry’s hands suddenly tangled into her hair, pulling her off balance and bringing her lips back to his. 

 

All she could do then was let out a muffled cry as his intense, probing kiss set her instantly aflame, making her feel as desperate and needy as she had _before_ she’d had the best orgasm of her life.

 

Ginny braced her hands on either side of his head and gave into the kiss, trying to wrestle control from Harry, chasing his tongue back into his mouth.  She wasn’t actually sure who was winning, but it was quite the enjoyable battle. 

 

With the small part of her brain that was still functioning, Ginny tried to riddle out how she was going to continue with the shagging without giving up the lovely snog, and _without_ flipping over and giving Harry complete control.  This shagging business was much more complicated than it sounded.

 

Her arousal built and Ginny’s hips began an instinctual grind as they often did during an intense snog.  But this time a sudden a wave of pleasure tore through her, so intense she arched away from his kiss, a scream ripping from her throat. 

 

Oh dear _God_.  She repeated the motion and it happened again, his pelvis pressing against her clitoris and Harry’s cock sliding ever so slightly inside of her.  It was unlike anything she’d felt before.

 

“What?  What is it?” Harry gasped, his hands smoothing back her hair.

 

Her hips worked continuously now, without any direction from Ginny, who seemed to have lost control of her own body.  She tried to explain, but she didn’t have control of her vocal cords either.  “Hipbone against my … oh God, Harry, feels _so_ good.”

 

Harry bit his cheek, grunting as his hands fell to her hips.  But instead of guiding her, he just held her as he pushed up in the same delicious rotation.  Then the pleasure was building again.  “ _Harry_ … God, yes.”

 

She buried her face in his chest, concentrating fully on the rhythm.  It was imprecise and not at all in synchrony, but so very wonderful.  They ground into each other, Ginny’s movements becoming increasingly violent as she worked toward that elusive burst of pleasure. 

 

She couldn’t believe it was happening again.  Their bodies were slick and they slipped and slid against each other with each thrust.  The pleasure grew and grew, but release seemed unattainable, making Ginny grunt in frustration.  She was so tired, but it felt _so_ good.  What if it couldn’t happen again so quickly?  She might just go insane.

 

When it did come, it came on so slowly that it was hard to tell what was happening, hard to separate the build from the orgasm itself.  Then suddenly it completely overwhelmed her.  And still it went on and on, until Ginny didn’t think her muscles could stand another minute and her voice was tired from screaming.

 

It seemed like forever before she finally went limp over top of him.  And by _then_ , it was almost a relief.  Harry didn’t give her a moment to recover though.  As soon as she stilled, his breathing took on a desperate quality and he hugged her to him tightly, grunting as he began pounding into her from below. 

 

Ginny held on tightly, unable to do more than ride it out as Harry’s hands dug into her arse, holding her to him.  The hard pounding felt still different from all the other new sensations she had come to learn that night.  It was quite nice in its own right.  She wondered if she could come from that alone if she wasn’t so entirely spent.

 

Harry came with a roar and Ginny again felt that odd, hot sensation as he spilled inside of her.  This, too, was not at all what she’d imagined it would be like as she lay in bed at night, touching herself and thinking of him.  Well, she wouldn’t have to imagine any longer. 

 

Smiling giddily, she pressed a kiss against his skin before laying her face on his chest and listening to his breathing return to normal.  After a moment, Harry let out a bark of a laugh, startling Ginny and making her looked up.  He grinned at her, announcing gleefully, “Well, that was a bit better, I’d say.”

 

Despite the arrogance of his words, Ginny couldn’t seem to keep from giggling.  She tempered it, though, by teasing, “Well, yes.  And _I_ was on top.  What does that tell you?”

Harry laughed again, hugging her tightly and burying his head against her shoulder. 

 

“You’re wonderful, did you know that?” he murmured into her skin.

 

Ginny felt a rush of an entirely different kind of pleasure.  “Yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it a little more often.”

 

She felt Harry’s breath puff against her skin as he chuckled.  “We’ll have to work on your self-confidence, then.”

 

Laughing, Ginny snuggled into him.  She loved this side of Harry.  So few people got to see it.  It was what she envied most about his relationship with Ron and Hermione.  Well, she didn’t have to envy them any longer.  Harry was all hers now.  She wasn’t letting him go.

 

They were silent for a long time after that.  Harry may have even dosed a bit.  Ginny couldn’t remember having ever felt so relaxed and content.  She knew she’d _never_ felt so alive.  Tired and sore and cramped and blessedly alive.

 

Ginny buried her nose in Harry’s chest, enjoying how the newly grown hair tickled her nose.  She pressed a kiss there, before lying her cheek back down and gazing out the window.  It was dark, but she could make out the snow, still falling heavily. 

 

She would never look at snow quite the same again.  Wow, it was still Christmas Eve.  Ginny had almost forgotten.  This wasn’t at all where she’d imagined spending her holiday.  Not that she even knew where _here_ was.  She should, though, considering she was going to be living here.

 

“Where are we?” Ginny asked softly, not even sure if Harry was awake. 

 

“Finland.”

 

That caught her off guard.  Ginny pulled herself up on her arms and looked, wide-eyed, down at Harry.  “Finland?”

 

He shrugged, his hands reaching up to brush her hair off her shoulders.  His touch lingered on her upper arms where he stroked her skin lightly.  “It seemed like as good a place as any,” Harry explained softly.  “It’s isolated.  Hard to find.  Easy to Apparate in and out of.”

 

Satisfied with his answer, Ginny settled back down, tracing patterns on his bicep.  She was sure that the three of them had come up with some place safe.  “And Ron and Hermione live here as well?’

 

She felt, rather than saw, him nod.  “They have the bigger room.”

 

Of course.  Ginny wondered how long they had been sleeping together.  It was strange, really.  Years they had danced around each other.  The last time Ginny’d seen them, they’d been together only days, still awkward and shy with the new romantic aspects of their relationship.  Now they were married. 

 

“Are they … well?”

 

Harry chuckled.  “Yeah, they’re _well_.”

 

From his tone, Ginny could tell how happy her brother and his new wife were.  Happy despite being in the middle of the war.  Ginny tried to imagine what the wedding might have been like.  Did Hermione wear white?  Were there Christmas trees and holly boughs?  Were they surrounded by snow?  

 

It made Ginny’s heart clench.  She missed her brother’s wedding.  And this wasn’t Percy they were talking about, this was _Ron_.  Ron and _Hermione_.  The brother she was closest to marrying one of her best friends.  Ginny should have been there.

 

“I can’t believe I missed it,” she whispered without thinking.

 

Harry stiffened immediately.  “Ginny, I—”

 

Catching her mistake, Ginny went on as if he hadn’t spoken.  “Hermione must have been practically giddy.”  She didn’t want Harry to feel guilty about this as well, not now.  “I bet she looked beautiful.  And Ron … I can see him now, all nervous and fidgety.”

 

Harry’s sigh of relief was audible as he relaxed beneath her.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he was.  But happy too _, really_ happy, and Hermione was glowing …” He trailed off for a minute.  Then Ginny felt his hand on her chin, gently urging her too look up at him.  “Ginny … Ginny, when this is all over … I … we ….”

 

“Shh,” Ginny said, placing a hand over his lips, tears coming to her eyes.  “When this is all over I’m expecting a proper proposal.”

 

Harry nodded, capturing her hand.  He pressed a kiss to her palm, before holding it to his cheek as he smiled up at her.  His eyes looked a bit watery and she thought she heard a sniffle just before he pulled Ginny down into another long kiss.

 

“I love you,” Harry breathed when he finally pulled back.

 

Humming with pleasure, Ginny leaned her chin on his chest and hugged him to her. 

“Mmm.  This is wonderful.  I could stay like this forever.”

 

Harry sighed, his face dissolving into a frown as he turned to look out the window.  “I wish that was an option.”

 

The cozy contentment Ginny had been feeling vanished in an instant, his expression producing a dread that threatened to squeeze the life from her.  No, Harry wasn’t doing this to her again, not after everything they had just shared. 

 

“What do you mean by _that_?” Ginny demanded, her voice wavering as she scrambled off of him.

 

“Ginny,” Harry pleaded, the guilty expression on his face only feeding her fears.  “I told you—”

 

“I’m _not_ leaving!”  Ginny declared defiantly even as she felt herself getting more and more hysterical.  She couldn’t believe this.  Harry actually intended on shipping her home, back to her goddamn ice castle.

 

“You can’t stay here,” Harry countered in a disgustingly reasonable tone, coming up on his elbows to meet her eyes as she knelt beside him, scowling.  “What about your parents?”

 

Her parents?  Shit.  Ginny had completely forgotten about her family.  The whole Order must be out looking for her by now.  What an ungrateful daughter and sister she was, not having spared them a thought.  She—

 

“Ginny, it’s just too dangerous.”

 

The ground Harry had gained by bringing up her parents was wiped away in an instant and Ginny gratefully let herself be sucked back into her well justified rage.  “So, Ron and Hermione can risk their lives, but not me?”

 

“That’s right!” Harry snapped, finally losing his reasonable tone and sitting upright.

 

Ginny climbed off the bed to better rail at him, dragging a sheet with her, but barely bothering to cover herself.  “Weren’t you listening?” she bellowed.  “I can’t live like this anymore.”

 

“Weren’t _you_ listening?” he yelled back.  “I need you safe!”  After he said it, Harry winced at his own words, throwing back his head and rubbing his face with frustration. When he looked back at her, he was calm once more.  “Ginny, it won’t be much longer.  We’re _so_ close—”

 

“But what if it isn’t?  What if it lasts for _years_?  What if we don’t survive?”

 

“Ginny—”

 

She wasn’t listening to anymore.  Panic took hold and Ginny went for the jugular, threatening, “If you take me back … I’ll … I’ll walk down every empty street in London.  I’ll walk down Knockturn Alley at midnight.  I’ll—”

 

“Now, Ginny, calm down,” Harry interrupted, his eyes widening in shock as he tripped over himself to get off of the bed.  “We’ll just—”

 

But Ginny had been pushed too far.  He wasn’t going to pacify her and she wasn’t going to roll over to his wishes.  Not again.  “Harry Potter, if you abandon me now, I’ll march into the _Daily Prophet_ and I’ll tell them all we’re engaged.  We’ll see who’s a target then!”

 

 

 

* * * * *


	4. Eve

Harry didn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong, so fast.  Wasn’t it just minutes ago that they were laying there, in post-coital bliss, after a rather _spectacular_ shag (if he did say so himself)?  And now, suddenly, Ginny was railing at him as though he had just committed the most unforgivable of sins. 

 

It was ridiculous.  Completely barking.  Harry thought they’d come to an understanding.  He thought she _understood_.  What the hell happened?

 

Ginny finally seemed to get why it was so important for Harry to keep her safe.  She accepted that he loved her.  She’d even said it back, which was rather dizzying if he gave himself a moment to think about it. 

 

So, what was the _bloody_ problem?  And _what_ had transpired in this room that made her think that he would be all right with her _exiling_ herself with him?  She was completely irrational and Harry had no idea what he was going to say to make her see reason.  He’d _explained_ this, over and over. 

 

But, God, she was glorious, standing there, screaming at him, so beautiful and strong.  Harry was having serious difficulty remembering his old arguments, never mind coming up with new ones.

 

The sheet Ginny had grabbed was thrown so loosely around her body that it covered little of what it was intended to, making her look like a Greek warrior goddess.  Her well-tended-to nipples stood out, taunting him, rosy and insolent.  Her skin was flushed and golden in the firelight, her hair a tangled mass around her head.  Harry had done that.  His hands had created that fiery disarray and that knowledge made it the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. 

 

If he didn’t know better he’d say she was doing it on purpose, to distract him.  No, wait, this was Ginny.  She was _definitely_ doing it on purpose.  And how was he supposed to convince her to leave when that the last thing he wanted? 

 

And then the threats started and it only made him want her more.  Surely that made Harry a sick bastard, but … no one had ever fought like this to stay with him.  God, he loved her.

 

But she took it too far and suddenly his heart was frozen in his chest.  “Harry Potter, if you abandon me now, I’ll march into the _Daily Prophet,_ and I’ll tell them all we’re engaged.  We’ll see who’s a target then!”

 

His jaw dropped open.  No.  No.  No.  No.  No.  She hadn’t just said … she wouldn’t do that.  She _couldn’t_. 

 

Harry shook his head, trying to dislodge the horrible images that flew through his mind.  Ginny marching up the steps to the _Daily Prophet_.  Rita Skeeter’s delighted smile.  The flurry of her Quick Quotes Quill scribbling down distorted words.  The evil cackle of Death Eater laughter as they read the headline.  Voldemort’s chilling smirk.  Ginny in a filthy dungeon.  Ginny being tortured.  Ginny bleeding.  Ginny’s body cold and …

 

No.  _No_.  She was bluffing.  Ginny wasn’t that stupid.  “You wouldn’t,” Harry denied, his voice low and scratchy, his throat dry with fear.

 

But Ginny just smiled.  Her eyes were hard and determined and when she crossed her arms over her chest, the sheet slipped even more.  She didn’t even acknowledge it. 

 

“Wouldn’t I?”

 

Shit.  She would.  God, it was suicide, but Ginny was just crazy enough, just _reckless_ enough to do it.  There _was_ such a thing as having too much courage.  Didn’t she give a damn about her own safety?  About the safety of her friends and family?

 

“Voldemort would have you in an hour,” Harry hissed, his voice coming back with a vengeance, “if he had to flatten the Burrow and half of London to do it.  He’d use your family.  Take them one by one until he had you.  You wouldn’t _just_ be putting yourself in danger, Ginny.”

 

Instead of the horror he was hoping to instill, Ginny’s eyes flashed with insolence.  What was _wrong_ with her?  She gave Harry a small smile and tilted her chin arrogantly. “Well, you’ll just have to come home and save us then, won’t you?”

 

Harry opened his mouth to speak but could only grunt.  She’d gone barking.  “Whah ...?  _Ginny_!  What …?  What if I can’t?  What if I’m too late?”

 

Ginny shrugged, smiling at him confidently.  “You won’t be.  Though, we could avoid the entire debacle.  All you have to do is stop treating me like a child and start treating me like a partner.”

 

“I don’t … I …” Again, Harry was left with nothing to do but sputter and marvel at her determination.  Why was battling evil easier than having a conversation with Ginny Weasley? 

 

Finally, he had nothing left to do but laugh as he fell back onto the edge of the bed.  He couldn’t keep fighting her.  Harry did have a plan, a way to make their relationship work despite the circumstances.  Well, maybe _plan_ wasn’t the right word.  It was more of a fantasy, a mad scheme that he indulged in late at night.  But it _could_ work. 

 

And when it came right down to it, Harry just couldn’t let Ginny go home like this.  She was too wild, too reckless, too damn furious at him.  She’d place herself in danger just to spite him.  She’d get herself killed. 

 

But with his plan he’d be able to keep an eye on her.  Yes, that was best.  Harry needed to be make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.  This was for her.  It wasn’t about his own selfish need to keep her in his life.  That was just a bonus.

 

“So, what will it be, Harry?  Do I need to prepare my press release?”

Harry laughed.  He just couldn’t help himself.  Scrubbing his face, he looked up at her and shook his head.  “No.  You win.  You win.”

 

Ginny let out a squeal of delight.  A broad smile lit her face and she was instantaneously transformed from a warrior goddess to a little girl on Christmas morning.  Which was appropriate, as it was, actually, almost Christmas morning.

 

She bounded over to him, her sheet slipping even further and reminding Harry just how much she was _not_ a little girl.  Ginny threw her arms around his neck and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek.  “I can stay?”

 

She was so bloody irresistible that Harry couldn’t keep a smile off his face.  God, he wanted to say yes.  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled Ginny closer, so she was standing between his legs.  “Maybe we can come to a compromise.”

 

Frowning, she pulled back, but Harry wouldn’t let her go far, locking his hands together behind her back.  Ginny didn’t fight to get free, but she still managed to show her displeasure, crossing her arms and glaring down at him.  “I’m listening.”

 

Right.  Listening.  What if she didn’t accept this alternative?  How was Harry going to explain it so she’d agree?  He wasn’t any good at this sort of thing and he sure as hell couldn’t show any weakness or Ginny would move in quicker than he could say Umgubular Slashkilter.  Next thing he’d know, she’d be setting up house in this wretched little cabin and following him into battle.

 

Maybe he should just show her.  Taking Ginny’s hand, Harry swallowed his unease and forced himself to smile up at her.  He _had_ to make this work.  There was no other option. 

 

“Come with me.” 

 

Ginny didn’t look at all happy but allowed him to drag her over to his old trunk, kneeling gracefully next to him as he rummaged through, looking for what he needed.  It was on the bottom, in a small chest enveloped in a handkerchief.  Harry lifted out the cloth wrapped bundle and handed it to her, trying to mask his anxiety with a solemn expression.

 

Ginny narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  “What’s this?”

 

“A Christmas present,” Harry tried to joke, but the words came out completely serious.

Ginny’s face brightened and she asked, “Have you been planning this?”

 

Harry swallowed.  Please, don’t let her be disappointed.  “Not exactly.”  Not the Christmas part anyway.

 

Carefully, she unwrapped the bundle, behaving as if it were swathed in delicate fairy wings and taking so much time that she nearly gave Harry a heart attack.  When the heavy gold chain was revealed Ginny’s brow furrowed in question.  “It’s pretty.  Is it … a Time Turner?”  Harry nodded.  “How is this a compromise?”

 

This was it.  Harry had to sell this.  There was no other alternative.  He couldn’t let her search with him.  He couldn’t let her go home.  Either way he wouldn’t be able to concentrate through the fear. 

 

Reaching out, he cupped her hand, curling it around the Time Turner, the contact more to give himself courage than anything else.  “You’ll need this,” Harry explained, “so no one will know you’re gone.  Otherwise, your family will have the entire Order searching for you.”

 

Ginny bit her lip, her eyes drifting down to their joined hands.  She hooked her thumb over his.  “I’m not a very good daughter.”

 

“ _No_.  That’s not true.  You’re just … just a bit reckless.”  Harry couldn’t help his cheeky grin as Ginny gave him her I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that look.  It was so cute he had to laugh.  _That_ earned him a smack, but as she swatted at him he caught her hand and distracted her by leaning in for a kiss.

 

She was easily diverted and joined in enthusiastically.  Well, this was much, _much_ better than … well, anything.  When she finally pulled away, Ginny was flushed and smiling.  Running her tongue over her bottom lip, she sat back and Harry found himself having difficulty remembering what they had been talking about.  This day was certainly turning out better than expected.

 

Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Ginny examined the Time Turner.  “So, now when … _if_ I go home no one will be the wiser.  I’m still waiting for the compromise part.”

 

Well, she’d softened a _bit_ at least and seemed more willing to listen to reason.  Harry took a deep breath.  “Did you get an Apparition license?” he asked.

Ginny snorted.  “Of course.” 

 

Harry smiled and thanked God Ron wasn’t there to hear _that_.  It was the sort of thing he would grumble about for years.  “Do you think you could manage to Apparate to Finland?”

 

Ginny’s face transformed into a beautiful, glowing smile and she gave him a look that would’ve melted far greater men than him.  “I’m quite sure that I could,” she said huskily, “if I were given the proper motivation, of course.”

 

God, that witch was going to kill him.  Harry found himself grinning stupidly as his cock, _again_ , began to pay appreciative attention.  But when he reached for her, Ginny stopped him with a hand on his chest. 

 

“Not so fast, Potter,” Ginny admonished, her tone sober now.  “I’m not up for popping in for a quick shag every once and again.  I’ve done the stay at home and wait for you thing and I can’t do it anymore.  It’s not who I am.”

 

No, it certainly wasn’t.  Harry sighed, reaching out to stroke her cheek.  “Don’t want to be the ingénue, eh?”

 

Ginny blinked.  “What the hell is an anja—?”

 

“Ingénue,” Harry corrected, laughing.  No, she definitely was _not_ the ingénue.  “It’s something Hermione likes to bring up whenever Ron gets overprotective.  It’s a fancy name for the heroine in a fairytale whose sole purpose is to get herself in trouble and be saved.  You know, the damsel in distress, the—”

 

“The princess in a tower,” Ginny finished softly.

 

Harry nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s not really you, is it?”

 

Ginny shook her head.  “No.  Do you want it to be?”

 

“No.”

 

Her eyes smiled.  “So, you’ll let me—”

 

“Help from home … yes,” Harry said firmly, ignoring her frown.  “Look, we need to know what’s going on in Britain.  Voldemort’s branched out, but that’s still his home base.  All we know is what is reported in the papers and you know the quality of the news.  Even getting it is dangerous.  We risk being revealed each time we go into a wizarding town to buy a paper—”

 

“I get it,” Ginny interrupted, not looking at all happy with the job offer.  “So, I’m what?  The errand girl?”

 

“No, I …” Great, now what?  What was Harry going to do if she refused?  “Ginny, I’m sure with your … _creativity_ you could get us information that isn’t readily available.  We need to know everything that the Ministry knows, that the Order knows.  We need to know the rumors on the street—”

 

“So, you want me to be your spy?”  Harry gave a half shrug in response and a wicked smile formed on Ginny’s face.  “I could do that.  I’m good at spying.”

 

Harry laughed.  “I _know_.”  He reached for her again, relieved that they finally seemed to be on the same page.  He was _so_ ready for this bloody conversation to be over with.

 

But _still_ Ginny held him at arms length, insisting, “I’d rather be fighting next to you.”

 

“That’s why it’s called a compromise,” Harry reminded her and for a terrifying moment he was sure she’d refuse, but then she relaxed against him, allowing him to pull her closer as she threaded her hands into his hair and brought his lips back to hers.  Thank heavens!  Finally!

 

Allowing himself to get lost in her lips and her fantastically talented tongue, Harry’s mind _again_ formed countless images, but this time they weren’t filled with horror and tragedy.  Instead, each was better than the last, dozens of passionate reunions in this very room, until finally they could be together for good. 

 

Harry would redouble his efforts.  Just one more Horcrux and they could go after Voldemort himself. 

 

Ron would hate involving Ginny, but Hermione would see the wisdom of it.  She was always saying that they needed a better way to get information and Ginny was an expert at spying—then his image shifted and he saw Ginny sneaking into a Death Eater camp.

Harry tore his lips away.  Gasping, he burst out, “This doesn’t mean you get to do anything mental, Ginny.  No trailing Death Eaters or sneaking into Malfoy Mansion or raiding the Department of Mysteries—”

 

“ _Harry_ ,” Ginny interrupted, rolling her eyes.  “Do I look stupid?”

 

Harry frowned, fear and misgiving gaining ground deep the pit of his stomach.  Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.  “You _look_ too damn courageous for your own good.”

Ginny gave him a challenging smile, running the flat of her hand over his chest.  “I could say that very thing about someone else in this room.”

 

Harry captured her hand, holding it immobile.  He didn’t like the mischievous look in her eyes.  It reminded him far too much of the twins.  He moved to take back the Time Turner, but Ginny pulled it out of his reach and placed it on the floor behind her. 

 

Moaning in frustration, Harry begged, “Promise me you won’t do anything reckless.” 

 

Wrapping her hands around his neck, Ginny straddled Harry’s lap, whispering in his ear, “You like me reckless.”

 

God, he did.  Harry stiffened, well at least _one_ part of him did, quite nicely in fact.  Damn it, he needed to keep his head here.  But his hands were involuntarily moving to her hips and his eyes were slipping shut as Ginny traced the rim of his ear with her tongue. 

 

“I like you alive,” he managed to croak out.

 

Ginny gave his earlobe a light nip before pulling back to look at him with a surprising seriousness.  She kissed his nose before leaning down so their faces were almost touching.  “I like _you_ alive,” she whispered.  “I’ll promise not to do anything reckless if you promise to come home to me.”

 

Harry had to blink his eyes against the sudden sting.  He pulled Ginny closer, taking a deep breath.  How could he promise something like that?  “I promise to …” his voice broke and he swallowed, forcing himself to meet her eyes again.  “I promise I’ll _try_.  I promise not to do anything unnecessarily brave.”

 

He felt a small puff of air against his face that may have been a laugh, but it was hard to tell.  She was too close for Harry to see anything but her eyes.  Ginny pressed a slow, lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth.  When she spoke her voice was thick and scratchy as if she had been crying for hours.  “Then I’ll promise the same.”

 

She pressed her lips to his.  As Harry returned Ginny’s kiss his hands slid under the sheet and over her smooth back and he thought, it wasn’t good enough.  He wanted to be absolutely completely _guaranteed_ of her safety.  But he couldn’t have that.  All he could do was make the most of every minute they had together.

 

Threading his hand into her hair, Harry tipped her head to the side and pried her lips open.  With a muffled groan, Ginny accepted his invitation and beat him to the punch, sliding her tongue over his and arching into him, trapping his hard cock between their bodies.  It was good to be eighteen.

 

Ginny broke away, smiling at him with a sensuous, heavy lidded look that almost did him in.  She swayed toward him and Harry tried to recapture her lips, but she veered to the side and found his ear instead, teasing him by sucking the lobe into her mouth.  He groaned and leaned his head to the side, giving her better access. 

 

“Do you like this, love?” she whispered. 

 

Harry could only groan his assent.  He felt Ginny smile triumphantly against his chin at his less than coherent response.  Then her hand worked its way between them and closed around his cock, making him cry out in a pitch that was just a tad higher than he would have liked.

 

Ginny giggled huskily.  “How about this?”

 

What was she trying to do to him?  “You know I do.”  He was rewarded for his admission when she pressed his hard length against her smooth, sweat moistened belly and rubbed him against her. 

 

“Just think,” Ginny whispered in his ear, “we’ll be able to do this every few days.”

 

Every few days?  What was she talking about?  God, she felt good.  Ginny rained kisses down his neck and Harry struggled to process her words. Oh, the little minx. 

 

Harry grabbed her hand, wrenching it away from his cock.  It was painful, but at least he could breathe again.  Meeting her wide, questioning eyes, he said as gently as he could, “Ginny, you know you can’t come that often.”

 

“Why not?” she snapped, jerking her hand out of his grasp.  “I have that Time Thingy.”

 

“Yeah and you should have seen what trying to use it all the time did to Hermione,”

Harry said as rationally as he could, rubbing his hand over his face.  Would they ever reach an agreement?  He was so tired of rowing.  “It’s not worth the risk of getting caught, Gin.”

 

Crossing her arms, Ginny scowled at him.  “So, how often were you planning on _allowing_ me to come?”

 

Shit.  “Once a month or—”

 

“ _What_!”

 

Ginny started to climb off his lap and his heart began to sink.  In a panic, Harry clamped his hands around her waist.  Now, that they’d come this far, he couldn’t imagine not going through with the plan, not seeing her.  And bloody hell, every few days sounded absolutely _brilliant_.

 

“It’s up for negotiation,” Harry said a bit too desperately as he pulled her back against him. 

 

“That so?”  Ginny asked.  She sounded skeptical, but allowed him to pull her into his embrace easily enough.  Harry nodded somewhat frantically and a slow smile spread across her face.  She’d found the weakness she was looking for.  Damn it.  He was in for now. 

 

“Well, then,” she murmured seductively, her nails running over his chest and sending delicious shivers down his spine, “I suppose this _could_ work.”  Ginny ground her hips into him and Harry couldn’t help but moan.  “But seeing as right now we have more urgent matters, we’ll have to,” she leaned forward and nipped his chin, “negotiate the next date later.”

 

Harry chuckled.  He knew what she was doing and _damn_ it was working.  A few more minutes and he’d promise her anything.  “Brilliant,” he murmured, not sure if he was talking about the plan or her hand, which had once again closed around his cock.

 

“Up for another go, Mr. Potter?” Ginny whispered.

 

Smiling up at her, Harry reached out push her hair from her face.  “Yeah, I think I can manage.”  Ginny shifted up and he took in the look of intense concentration on her face.  Cupping her cheek, he stilled her.  “You sure you’re not too sore?”

 

Ginny’s response was to smile and nip his thumb as she eased him inside of her.  After that, Harry couldn’t think at all.  His head fell back as he savored the sensation.  When he was finally fully inside of her he felt rather intoxicated.  Still, he managed to ask, “All right, Gin?”

 

She shrugged, smiling.  “I’m sure I’ll regret it in the morning, but I’ve got a week to recover.”

 

“A week—?”  Harry broke off with a laugh as he caught sight of Ginny’s mischievous expression.  That’s what he got for falling in love with a Weasley.  He should have known better.  Shaking his head, he muttered, “We’ll see.  Now, come here.” 

 

Harry pulled her in for another deep kiss, one arm settling comfortably around her hips as they began a slow, steady rhythm.  They were _definitely_ getting better at this.  When he hit a spot that Ginny seemed to particularly like, she gave a small squeal and broke the kiss.  Her head fell back, her hair cascading down behind her.  Greedily, Harry’s mouth fell on the curve of her neck. 

 

God, he could do this every day of his life.  But not now.  Soon.  With this as a reward, he’d be able to win any battle.  Then they could get a little flat … no, a house.  A quant cottage with a cat and ba—oh dear _God_.

 

Ginny’s head snapped up when Harry became suddenly and unnaturally still.  “What’s wrong?” she gasped, panting.

 

But Harry was having trouble breathing, never mind answering.  How could he have been so stupid?  And he called _her_ reckless.

 

“Harry?”

 

She sounded irritated so Harry thought it best if he at least looked at her.  When he did Ginny had a quizzical, but patient expression on her face.  God, he loved her.  It would be all right.  Their plans would have to change, but they could make it work. 

 

Swallowing, Harry forced himself to say, “Ginny, we ah … I think we, er … we forgot to use birth control.”

 

Ginny’s laughter rang out, filling the room and making Harry’s stomach clench.  She was mad.  That’s all there was to it.  Didn’t she understand what this would mean?  It wasn’t exactly the ideal time for him to become a father.  “I don’t think this is a laughing matter,” he said, a hysterical edge to his voice.

 

Still giggling, Ginny teased, “ _Now_ , you think about contraception?  When you’re about to come inside me for the _third_ time tonight.”  She pushed against him for emphasis and Harry moaned, it felt so good, but he somehow found the strength to grab her hips and stop her.

 

Harry couldn’t figure out why she was so nonchalant about this.  Did she _want_ to be a mother?  Maybe she did.  Ginny kept talking about making the most of the time they had.  Taking a deep breath, he decided he needed to be supportive.  He didn’t want her to think he would leave her in that inevitability.  He didn’t ever want to leave her.

 

Nodding to himself, Harry managed to say with only a slight quiver to his voice, “Well, it will be fine.  You’ll have to be more careful, of course.  Maybe you should go into hiding if—”

 

Ginny laughed again, cupping his cheek.  “Harry, love, I take a contraception potion.  And you say _I’m_ reckless?”  She shook her head in an amusement.

 

The relief, and to be honest the small smidgen of disappointment, barely had a chance to sink in, before an even worse thought sprung to his mind.  Harry’s brow furrowed.  “ _Why_ are you on a contraception potion?”  Why would a virgin, without a boyfriend, need _that_ kind of potion?

 

Ginny rolled her eyes, looking down at him with an incredulous expression.  “Well, I was planning on shagging myself through the Order.  I just hadn’t got around—”

 

“ _Ginny_!” Harry growled, leaning forward to bite her shoulder in an uncontrollable possessive gesture.

 

Mewling with approval, Ginny snuggled closer to him, causing another wave of pleasure to shoot through him.  Then, as if on cue, their bodies decided to stage a revolt and started to move together, getting on with the shagging, despite their conversation being far from over.

 

Meeting his eyes, Ginny placed her hand on his cheek and whispered in an intimate tone, “I started the potion before we broke up and never stopped.  I just wanted to be careful.”

 

Harry’s jaw fell open.  “You mean … you thought _we’d_ … but we were only together a few weeks,” he sputtered.

 

The corner of her lip quirked up.  “Well, it seemed to be the direction we were heading in.”

 

It was?  Someone forgot to tell that to Harry.  If he thought _this_ was what Ginny wanted, he didn’t think he would have successfully been able to hold himself back, or have even broken up with her for that matter.  Maybe it was best he hadn’t known. 

 

Harry was still trying to figure out how to respond when Ginny abruptly changed the subject, “Harry, how much time do we have with your Time Thingy.”

 

Her hand found his nipple and flicked, making it difficult for him to answer, but he managed to croak, “Fifteen hours or so.”

 

Ginny smiled beatifically, “All of Christmas Eve, then?”

 

“And a bit of Christmas morning,” Harry answered absently, suddenly catching sight of her bouncing breasts and wondering why he had left them so neglected.

 

“Well then, we should be enjoying our holiday, shouldn’t we?” she teased.

 

Harry smiled back, pulling her closer and cupping his hand over her breast.  “Yes, we should,” he agreed softly as he met her in another deep kiss.  It was long, slow, and intimate, as was their love making.  The urgency was gone.  There was no need to rush.  They were together now. 

 

Wow.  They were back together.  It was almost too great a concept for Harry to wrap his mind around.  Ginny was _really_ his now.  When she pulled back from their kiss, Ginny licked her lips as if savoring something delicious then hummed contentedly. 

 

Harry was sure he was smiling at her like a besotted idiot.  Ginny didn’t seem to mind.  Her expression was blissful and loving.  “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

 

“Happy Christmas, love.”  And he really couldn’t remember a better one.

 

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

 

Ginny was exhausted by the time she Apparated to the alley beside her brother’s store, wrapped firmly in Harry’s arms.  She was grateful for the Side-Along.  She was sure she would have splinched herself after so little sleep.  She wasn’t as used to it as Harry was.

But it was worth it.  Every bloody bit of it.  Even a minute of sleep would have been a waste of perhaps the best night of Ginny’s life.  And to think, it all started with one moment of reckless and her own abduction.

 

She muffled a giggle against Harry’s shoulder.  All and all, Ginny was feeling rather giddy and she had _no_ idea how she was going hide it, while staying awake to participate in a second Christmas Eve with her mad family.  Not to mention the secrets she’d have to keep … Ron’s marriage, her and Harry, _everything_.  But she would, because she had to, and because, in the end, this would be worth it as well.

 

Peering past Harry’s shoulder, through his Invisibility Cloak, Ginny took in the stillness of Diagon Alley.  Dawn brightened the cloud cover and snow still fell softly.  Everything was covered with a thick blanket of white, completely undisturbed by wizard or beast.

 

“I reckon my family hasn’t gone quite as spare as we’d feared,” she mused, leaning her cheek against Harry’s chest.  “It doesn’t look as though anyone has been on this street since I left.”

 

“Um mm,” Harry murmured, shaking his head, tickling her hair with his chin.  “That only means that the Time Turner worked.  Otherwise, the Order would be swarming these streets looking for clues.”

 

“That’s ridiculous, Harry,” Ginny said absently, now that she was back and she was faced with the reality of the situation, she was beginning to worry about what exactly her family _was_ thinking about her sudden disappearance.  “If I haven’t gone back in time yet, how could anything have changed?”

 

“But you will and you have.  So, things have already changed,” Harry explained, making little sense.  Then he must have seen her confused frown, because he gently kissed her forehead and said, “Trust me.  I’ve done this before.”

 

“When?”

 

Harry shook his head, smoothing a piece of hair behind her ear.  “It’s a long story.  I’ll tell you sometime.”

 

The implication of his quiet words was clear.  They didn’t have much time left.  The anxiety Ginny was feeling turned into full fledged panic.  No.  _No_.  He couldn’t leave her again.  He couldn’t.  It was too soon.

 

“No, tell me now,” Ginny demanded, slightly hysterical.  If she kept him talking, Harry couldn’t leave.  She didn’t want to stop hearing his voice.  “I need to know.  If I’m going to work this thing, I—”

 

Harry cut her off with a sharp kiss.  It was apparent that he intended it to be brief, but Ginny’s fists curled into his jumper and pulled him closer, opening her mouth and taking control of the kiss with a new desperation.

 

Moaning into her mouth, Harry pushed up against her.  Ginny felt the almost constant arousal of the last fifteen hours flare again, making her feel feverish from the combination of the intensity, frequent bursts of pleasure, and complete exhaustion.  

 

Too soon, Harry pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, his breath coming in short gasps.  He wrapped his arms even further around her, whispering, “You have to go.”

 

As if she didn’t know that.  Ginny sniffed, struggling to hold back tears.  But it was no good and they spilled over, leaving warm wet paths on her cheeks.

 

Harry took a sharp breath.  “Oh, Ginny.  Please, please don’t cry.”  His voice was thick

and heavy, sounding as though he were fighting tears as well.  “We’ll see each other soon,” he whispered, wiping her tears away only to have new ones wet his fingertips.

 

Shaking her head, Ginny clutched him tighter, knowing she should be acting stronger than this, knowing she had agreed to the plan and it was a _good_ plan, but … but … “It’s not soon _enough_.  I don’t want you to go,” she whimpered. 

 

“Ginny—”

 

“I want to go back with you,” Ginny pleaded, completely forgetting her pride as words tumbled out of her mouth without censure.  “We can go and leave my parents a note.  Then we—”

 

“You’ve already gone home, Gin,” Harry whispered softly.  “You’ve already used the Time Turner.  See.”  He gestured to the unblemished street.

 

But Ginny shook her head even more wildly, throwing the last tatters of her pride to the frosty wind.  “Don’t leave me.”

 

“ _God_ , Gin.”  Harry closed his eyes tightly and she saw a tear of his own escape.  He didn’t move to wipe it away, just looked back down at her and took a jagged breath. 

 

“Ginny, listen to me,” he whispered passionately.  “I’m _not_ leaving you.  Not this time.  We’re going to see each other in a few—”

 

“But—”

 

“Shhh.”  He cut of her protests with a soft kiss.  “Ginny, please.  This … this is different from before.  We’ll be living separately but we’re still together.  This is just the beginning … _before_ the beginning.  This is part before the rest of our lives.  We’re going to get through this war, _together_ , and then we won’t have go home separately ever again.”

 

Despite it all, Ginny smiled, a teary little laugh breaking free as she pressed her hand to his face, feeling stubble and tears.  Harry had never sounded so _hopeful_ before.  They could _do_ this.  And one day, they’d be going home together.  Nodding, she whispered, “It’s just our prologue.”

 

His smile was beautiful.  “Our eve.  The time before the rest of our lives.  We’ll be stronger for it.  I _promise_.”

 

This time, when Ginny laughed, it rang out in the silent morning.  “Our eve,” she agreed. 

 

“God, Potter, when did you get so cheesy?”  He laughed then, as well, and they came back together in a long kiss.  When he broke away, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny stopped him, whispering, “I know.  I have to go.”

 

Harry nodded, his face sad but resigned.  “It’s only until January tenth,” he whispered, punctuating his quiet words with a kiss.

 

“January fifth,” she countered, kissing him harder.

 

Harry groaned.  “ _Ginny_.  We agree—”

 

“I _could_ always come for New Years—”

 

Groaning with frustration, he gave in, “Fine.  Fine, you win.  You _always_ win.  January fifth.” 

 

Ginny could point out that if she _always_ won she wouldn’t be going home right now, but decided against it.  Harry was already pulling the Time Turner out of his pocket and placing it over her head, repeating, “One in the morning on January Fifth.  You’ll Apparate to the cabin from your bedroom after everyone else has gone to sleep.  And don’t tell _anyone_.”

 

Ginny rolled her eyes.  If he told her that _one_ more time she was going to punch him.  Did he think she was completely daft?  “Sure, of course, I won’t tell anyone.  Just Fred, George, Mum, maybe Verity from the store—”

 

“ _Gin_ ,” he growled.  “This is not a joking matter.”

 

“ _Harry_ ,” she said firmly, taking his head in both her hands.  “I _know_ how to keep a secret.”

 

A small smile formed on his lips and he gave a huff of a laugh.  “I know you do.  I just want you to be safe, that’s all.”  Then he took a deep breath, seemingly to be gathering his courage as he rubbed her arms briskly.  “Ok then, six turns of the Time Turner.  Wait for yourself to come out of the shop and Apparate away.  Then off to the store with you as though you never left.”

 

“Not _exactly_ as though I never left,” Ginny teased and Harry chuckled.

 

“No, not exactly.”  He took yet another deep breath before giving her a reassuring smile. 

 

“I love you.”

 

Her throat was starting to close again, but Ginny smiled at him brightly.  “I love _you_.  And I’ll see you soon.” 

 

Then she nodded as if to convince herself and gave Harry one last lingering kiss. 

Stepping back before she lost her courage, Ginny met his eyes and careful turned the Time Turner.  One … two …three … four … five … six … oh God.  Oh God.

 

Ginny held the Turner still, panicking.  When she let go, she’d go back and … would it all disappear?  Would their time together be wiped clean?  But Harry nodded and smiled, giving her the strength to let go.  Nothing could take away their Christmas Eve together.  _Nothing_.

 

The Time Turner whipped back, spinning at a dizzying speed.  Horrified, Ginny watched Harry disappear, his cloak with him.  She choked back a sob and forced herself to watch the mesmerizing sight of the snow falling back up into the sky as it faded to black and then brightened again until it was twilight.  In a blur, her earlier self appeared in the street, running backward into the store.

 

Then, just as suddenly as it started, everything came to an abrupt stop and the snow began to fall back down again.  It was done.  Ginny was back as if nothing had changed.  No.  She wasn’t going to think that way.  Everything had changed.  She had changed.  Harry had changed.  He was hers now and no one could take that from her.

 

Ginny leaned her face against the brick wall of the alley, enjoying the cold surface against her warm cheek.  And she waited. 

 

She struggled to get control of her tears.  Ginny had to face her brothers soon and somehow appear normal.  Thankfully, acting was something she was good at.  After she went to bed, alone, she could cry some more.  Then she had to get herself together and start coming up with a plan for how to get useful information for Harry.

 

It seemed as though Ginny stood out in the cold forever before her fifteen-hour younger self immerged from the store and ran out into the empty street.  It was probably good that it took so long.  Her eyes had finally dried. 

 

As she watched herself slide down the street like a silly little girl, Ginny had to shake her head.  Harry was right.  She _had_ been reckless.  Well, she wouldn’t be any longer.  There was too much at stake.  She had a future to get to now, to work toward. 

 

Once the invisible abductor had spirited the other Ginny away, she wasted no time rushing into the street, her wand out.  She ran to the front stoop of the joke shop and cast a quick charm to stir up her mysteriously disappearing footprints.  They were more than a little suspicious for an abduction.  Sometimes, Harry was reckless as well.  They made quite the pair.

 

Smiling wryly to herself, Ginny slipped into the store and banished her cloak back behind the counter.  Another charm magically dried the snow from her newly washed hair.  She knew that the smell of sex was safely washed off her skin, but somehow she could still smell it in the air.  She smiled to herself.  The lack of sleep was really getting to her.

 

“Oi, Ginny.  What the bloody _hell_ is going on out there?  How long does it take to charm a damn register?” Fred called from the backroom.

 

Ginny’s eyes widened as a flash of panic stole her speech, but she recovered quickly, calling back, “Register’s done.  I’m just putting the wards up on the front door.”  She managed to keep her voice even and that itself did a lot to calm her anxiety. 

 

This was a role she would be playing for a long time now.  She was an Undercover Auror of sorts.  The idea made Ginny smile and she locked the front door, putting up the wards with an enthusiasm she’d never felt towards the task before.

 

As she finished, Ginny’s eyes were drawn to the frost covered windows that she had been staring through earlier.  Picture perfect, she’d thought, and it was true.  What a beautiful serene scene, a winter wonderland.

 

She touched her fingertips to the cold glass and stared out at the snow.  Ginny would never be able to look at it again without thinking about Harry, thinking about _their_ White Christmas.  The pristine snow covered surface was the blank canvas they were starting over with.  The stuff from before was still there, underneath, but it was smoothed over and washed clean.  The future was up to them.

 

Ginny didn’t have to worry about that Ice Castle anymore.  It was amazing how something as simple as snow could take on such a different meaning in just a matter of hours.

 

“ _Ginny!_   Damn, girl, will you move your skinny arse!”

 

Or a matter of minutes to some.  Ginny turned to see Fred standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression irritated.  George budged past his twin, biting out, “That’s enough,” as he walked toward Ginny.

 

Fred rolled his eyes in response.  “Look at the little chit, staring out the window, day dreaming and lollygagging when there are Christmas biscuits waiting at the Burrow.  I hate to burst your bubble, Gin,” he said, switching to a baby voice, “but you won’t be catching sight of Father Christmas out there.  He doesn’t _really_ exist.”

 

Ginny suppressed a smile, her eyes fixed on the snow.  “Says you,” she threw back.

With a bark of a laugh, Fred retorted, “Are we going to have to wait up all night _again_ and prove—?”

 

“Shut it,” George barked, coming around to lightly touch Ginny on the arm.  “All right, Gin?”

 

Ginny looked up into the concerned face that usually so irritated her, then back out at the endless expanse of white.  A slow smile spread across her face.  “Never better.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to get this all up this weekend. I have a fluffy Ron/Hermione Christmas Story too that I hope to get up before Christmas.
> 
> Comments and kudos are the best presents. Thanks!
> 
> Emmy


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